


The Banana Lounge (II)

by thebananahasspoken



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal, Baras, Biting, Blood, Bondage, Breeding, Choking, Cumplay, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Drinking, Drug Use, Edging, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Fusions, Knifeplay, M/M, Magic, Magical dicks, Monster Heat, Monster dicks, Multi, Oral, Other, Oviposition, Pay to Play, Petplay, Phone Sex, Roleplay, Sanses, Sansy Fresh - Freeform, Sexting, Smoking, So many AUs, Submission, Threesome, Vaginal, Video Chat, and even more skeletons, and grillbys!, bananas galore, beasties, brothel, cum, excessive cum, gasters, multiverse gathering, multiverse's okayest secretary, or dont, papyri, skeleton dicks, somebody stop me, the banana lounge, too many aus, wheee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 47,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebananahasspoken/pseuds/thebananahasspoken
Summary: Welcome to the Banana Lounge, your one stop shop for the fulfillment of all your skeleton monster loving needs!*This work is complete, and will no longer be accepting requests*
Comments: 76
Kudos: 137





	1. Welcome~

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Banana Lounge, my dears. This is a replacement fic, for the one I had up before; in that one, I was attempting to edit all of my old pieces, and was simply overwhelmed by the sheer amount of them there were. As such, this fic will focus entirely on new content, new asks and requests, and current events.

* * *

The air of the world shimmers around you oddly, as you step through what you had thought to be a wormhole in the street, your eyes blinded for a moment by the sun overhead. Before you, across the deserted street and well-kept pavement, stands a large brick building, what you can only assume is a warehouse. In large, cheerful neon lettering, curving with a strange enticement across the entire front of the building, hangs a sign announcing the business to be 'The Banana Lounge'.

A lounge, then. An interesting size for one. Did it double as a dance club as well?

And... an apartment building?

And a pool?

You shrugged your shoulders, looking up and down the quiet street for a moment before striding towards the lounge's entrance, a gleaming set of two glass-fronted double doors with additional signs upon them, proclaiming **'No Charas or Frisks allowed. This means you!'**. Scribbled in smaller, less neat lettering was the designation **'And no Jerrys either'**.

Odd, again, but you couldn't fathom the meaning, and let yourself into the building. It looked to be the only one in operation within sight, and perhaps whoever was inside could offer you some sort of guidance as to where you were.

The inside of the building, or what you could see upon your entrance, was pleasantly cool, and decorated like the waiting area of any business, several comfortable couches and chairs laid out before a large desk, complete with modern computer and inbox, currently empty. The air was heavy with herbal spice, coming from a small garden in one of the windows beside the doors, the gentle tinkling of a fountain filled the air with its soothing music, and in the wall across from you sat another set of double doors, solid and firmly shut beneath a veneer of sheer curtains, a **'Closed'** sign taped to their fronts.

Beside the desk, and around an alcoved dip in the wall, was a large coffee stand, equipped with several expensive-looking machines, a large basket of pastries, and a giant stack of mugs, behind the desk stood an officious door inscribed with the lettering 'Director', and at the desk, watching you from behind a pair of brightly colored, plastic sunglasses (which currently read 'HEYY'), was a skeleton monster.

He was vivaciously dressed in a neon windsuit, backwards ballcap with a spinner on top, and a fake gold necklace that read “Tubular” across it. His duct-taped Heeleys were propped on top of the desk he was sat behind, and in his hands was a bright orange DS, blaring the Kirby theme. The nameplate beside his shoes read “Multiverse's Okayest Secretary”.

He looked at you over the top of his sunglasses as you approached, his grin wide and lopsided, and waved the toe of one untied sneaker at you.

"yo yo yo, my fly broski! welcome to the banana lounge and everything it has to offer. the host of these sweet digs is a bit busy at the moment, so she can't welcome you herself, but don't flip your lid over that. sansy fresh's got your back. you got questions, i got a select variety of semi-applicable answers. and if you're cool with the dealio... i can hook you up with your idea of a good time, if you've got the g for it~”

You could only blink at him, fiddling with the corner of the desk anxiously.

"I... really don't know what you're selling. Bananas? And how did I even get here? Why are you taking payments in gold? And how-" you began, your words spilling out faster and faster in your confusion, but Fresh, with a raised hand and a crooked smile, cut you off.

He shot you a broad grin, pulling his shoes from the top of the desk and setting aside his DS, and pulled a piece of paper out from the bottom-most box on the desk top with one hand, sliding it over to you.

“this here is what is crudely referred to as a brothel, my dude. created by a self-declared perv, for all the fans of the skeleton monsters out in the multi-verse that ever wanted a piece of some magical junk and spunk, some cuddles and puddles (or just cuddles, whatever floats your boat), some of the old bone zone, you know.”

Fresh indicated the piece of paper in your hands with a poignant fingergun.

“that right there is the list, comprising all the sanses, papyruses, fusions, and gasters that we got here, along with some other skeletal beasties that the director, b, found in her travels. gets updated every once in awhile, whenever a new universe gets found or someone new shows up, junk like that.”

He leaned back in his chair again, completely at ease, and pulled a yo-yo from seemingly thin air, flipping it nimbly over the back of a half-gloved hand.

"the place is designed to know who needs a good boning from their desires alone, broseph. there's no way you could be here otherwise. your money's been transmuted to gold with the teleportation, so don't flip out... and we welcome all sorts."

What an offer. You'd often dreamed of the monsters you so highly regarded... had lusted after in the dark of the night. And to be offered the opportunity to finally make those dreams reality...

You dug into your pocket, where, indeed, in place of your wallet was a sack of gold coins; you bounced it in your palm, gaze roaming over the lobby and to the pair of closed double doors. The temptation was almost irresistible...

The brightly dressed skeleton reached out to tap a locked box on the corner of the desk at your considering look, the slit on the top just big enough for a single coin but, from the corner of your eye, seeming to shimmer, as though by magic. With a sneaky grin, he held out his yo-yo, tripped it over the back of his hand into the slot, and without so much as hesitating, the slot accepted the toy, swallowing it up with a delightful ping.

“5000 big ones for a night with one of the boys, upwards for each one you want extra. got some other services too, all on the list, but at the moment we're only open for calls, texts, and video chats. social distancing and all that jazz~”

With a wink and a chuckle, he pulled back on the yo-yo’s string, popping the toy back out of the box. The box made a sad noise, deflated, like a broken bell, and he patted its lid, one of his garish rings tapping against it ostentatiously.

“and… that’s pretty much it, i think. well, besides the rules. wack, but there for a reason. no frisks and charas, no freakin’ _jerrys_ , sign your consent forms… be aware of who you’re requesting, some of these unchill wackjobs can and _will_ funk you to death… and have fun!”

* * *


	2. Viral Craze (Sansy Fresh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what's really up in the hizz house?

* * *

dragonsanddogs asked:

So I know this is an alternate dimension and all but it still has clients from my earth which is why I need to say that I hope everyone takes precautions on being safe from the virus and I hope some of you are practicing social distance especially the spider sans don’t want any of his wives or hybrid children getting sick and you as well banana I hope you stay safe as well and clean

* * *

Fresh nodded along with your query, feet up on the top of his desk and hands folded behind his head. The moment you stopped speaking, he jerked a thumb at the entrance to the lounge floor indicatively, bringing to your attention the closed doors and the sign posted on it.

“‘s why we don’t have anyone gettin’ their freak on, chica. place is closed down 'til earth can get its act straight, ya feel me? we’d be fine, monsters can’t catch human diseases, but we’re prime real estate to pass ‘em around, and no one wants that to happen here. besides… b’s in quarantine atm. kinda why i’m coolin’ my heels out here, taking questions instead of her. we couldn’t run this place without her, it’d fall apart.”

You made a sound of distress at the news, wondering aloud if she was well, but Fresh dismissed your worry with a wave of his hand and a knowing grin.

“oh yeah, she’s fine, g. she’s just being safe. not really her idea… she’d wanted to go out and do charity work in her universe, see. comic ‘bout flipped his lid when he heard. put the kibosh on that real quick.”

* * *


	3. Gettin' Real Fresh (Sansy Fresh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercy, mercy me.

* * *

mercy-monster asked:

*throws pennies and some pocket lint at Fresh* HERE'S MY LIFE'S SAVINGS WHAT CAN I GET WITH THAT

* * *

Cassy made a disparaging noise from his overstuffed pillow on B’s side of the desk, eyeing the pile of lint littering the top of the table Fresk was reclined behind, but Fresh didn’t seem to mind, his grin curving at one corner and his glasses flashing the word ‘SWEET’ across them. He picked up the pennies slowly, clearly taking great care with them, before reaching out to deposit them in the box with a flourish.

It made a disappointed sounding ping, but Fresh ignored it, turning back to you and pushing himself out of his chair deliberately to walk slowly around the edge of the desk, giving you a long once over, hands in his pockets and smile telling.

“life saving’s, huh? dope, we wanna give ya everything you deserve for it then. be ghetto af not to respect the hard work you put in to get all them coppers… but you might hafta steel yourself. it’s pretty off the heasy.”

His hand was gentle, in taking your chin, the rustle of his windsuit and the scent of Juicyfruit gum filling your head; the material of his fingerless gloves was soft against your jaw, as he turned your head to press his bared grin to your ear, whisper-soft and portentous.

“not to get fresh with ya… but yanno fresh’s got what ya need,” he murmured heatedly, his free hand taking one of yours and pulling it from your side and towards him; your breath caught, his breath heated, his presence close, so close, and yet-

And yet he was pouring several small, round somethings into the palm of your hand from a crinkling bag, just out of sight.

He was gone the next moment, spinning in his desk chair and fiddling with a piece of string he was attempting to tie into various shapes between his fingers, and you looked down, with confused curiosity, at the objects in your hand.

…they were Skittles. Tropical, if you could guess from the coloring.

He snickered when you looked back at him, the wink hidden behind his glasses obvious. His mottled, black and purple tongue stuck out at you in faux mocking at your expression, the string in his hands somehow forming the word ‘gotcha’ when he stretched it out between them.

“should about cover it, yeah? somethin’ sweet for a pretty sweet gal,” he chortled, clearly highly amused by his teasing, before he sobered, his smile sharpening and the lights overhead dimming slightly.

“but for real, dawg. if you’re ever really lookin’ for a hella good time… you know where to find us.”

His grin broadened, edging on the brink of lust and madness.

“it’ll be you beggin’ for mercy then.”

* * *


	4. In the Bag (Casanova)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassy's been hard at work~
> 
> (Casanova is B's Lust bitty bones <3 he upkeeps a small garden of herbs beside B's desk, and frequently brews teas for patrons)

* * *

9differenttypesofcrazy asked:

Hey again! Has Cassy considered making bags of his tea blends for the peeps to buy and brew at home? Cuz while Covid 19 is a thing, I'm sure some who love his teas would like to get some at home since they can't stay here. Also, still working on a prototype for that Pelvis Punch Glove idea while stuck at home (^_^)b

* * *

Casanova, at the mention of his name, perked from the slightly overgrown garden beside the window, struggling free of a tangle of climbing vines to leap about your feet excitedly, pulling on your pant leg indicatively. Fresh, returned to his seat and steadily blowing an incredibly large bubble with his chewing gum, let out a chuckle and sent you a mute wink from around the edge of his sunglasses.

“I actually have some ready! Don’t wanna sell ‘em, not in a time like this… but mama said I could give ‘em away! They’re clean, promise, I washed my hands a lot!”

His pulling seemed to be dragging you towards the kitchenette, where, on a low table set against one of the walls, several piles of decorative tea bags were laid, cards with scratchy but legible handwriting labeling them for their various herbs. He bounced eagerly on the tips of his clawed back feet hopefully as you inspected them, his sockets wide and eager and his tail whipping back and forth over the tile.

“You can take whatever you want, just leave enough for everyone else, please!”

* * *

  
  



	5. Shut Up and Dance (Dancetale Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dance has more than enough time for you.

* * *

**Anonymous asked:**

**Wait sexting is open!? *slams down 2000g* can I get some time with Dance!?**

* * *

For the first time in what must be at least a year, the bass beat of the strip/dance club was silent, the neon lights dull in their casings, the floor empty and still.

A few monsters were present: Lust, practicing his lifts on the pole onstage with a pair of headphones on his skull, Grillz, restocking the bottles of liquor behind the small, open bar, Craven, following along behind a heavily blushing maid and clearly attempting to woo her while she attended to her dusting, and Dance, spread out across an abandoned couch, ball cap tilted over his face and one shoe tapping the air to an internal rhythm.

In the pocket of his loose fitting sweats, his cell phone buzzed urgently, and with a laziness befitting his name, he stretched, his spine popping in several spots, and let out a wide, loud yawn (Grillz sent him a stern look over the edge of his glasses, having nearly dropped a bottle of Jaegermeister at the sudden noise) before fishing his phone from his pocket, flipping the bill of his cap back lethargically, and checking his messages, opposite arm slipping behind his head to prop it up.

One from his brother, reminding him of their practice later that evening (swipe), an updated one from B, a group message giving out the details of their schedules and duties during the quarantine (swipe), a private one from B (check the picture, smirk, and save for later)… and one from you.

**Hav-anon-a: Hi Dance! Um… Fresh told us we would  
be able to do things like… sexting now? I was  
wondering if you had done time to spare, to maybe  
have a good time. If you wanted! If not, it’s cool**

**Hav-anon-a: *some time lol**

Dance hummed with interest, shoving his cap more firmly on his head and sitting up against the armrest of the couch. A job… he hadn’t been expecting that. Monsters like Comic and G, sure, they were good at this kind of thing, would likely get a lot of attention… he’d been fully anticipating being ignored, when B had announced the new service at their last meeting, and had been perfectly fine with that, content to do his pittance of cleaning while waiting for the lockdown to end.

He wasn’t hurting for company as much as some of the more extroverted monsters were (Red was pacing the floor every day like a caged animal, Papyrus had taken to redecorating, and Lust was… well. Reduced to humping his pole and his hand, and he wasn’t happy about it), and was fine with committing to his practice and his private time.

Yet here you were on his phone, money waiting to be deposited in his account, waiting for his attention. He was flattered, to say the least, and pondered a moment at what to say in response to your cute little greeting. It didn’t take much thinking.

**Dancy-pants: no prob, sweetness, s what im here  
for, and believe me, ive got nothing but time rn.  
im more surprised than anthing… my game  
isnt really sweet talk. im more of a physical guy**

**Dancy-pants: im def up for it tho**

It didn’t take you long to respond.

**Hav-anon-a: Great! Thank you so much, this is amazing.  
Umm… I don’t really… know where too start tho?  
Do you like, want a pic or something? So you can…  
You know…**

The question was followed by an emoji of an eggplant, and Dance snickered, your uncertainty and timidness piquing his interest. It was adorable… he could feel his magic stirring already, and adjusted himself on the couch, anticipatory and excited.

**Dancy-pants: pic would be awesome, but keep the  
clothes on for a bit. let me just get a look at you first**

It took you a little longer this time, so long he began to worry he’d offended you; he started to type out an apologetic reply, but halfway through, a media message loaded on his screen.

He erased his message and opened yours eagerly, tapping a single phalange on his knee in impatience as the photo loaded (Gaster must be messing with the wifi again…), before, with a sharpness to his gaze that normally wasn’t present, he took in your photo, his smile hungry and more than a little lascivious.

You’d obeyed his want for you to remain clothed… but had lifted your shirt over your chest teasingly, your cheeks tinted bright red with your embarrassed bravery, eyes shining with both mischief and hopeful humility. His gaze raked over your exposed nipples, your stomach and the line of your underwear he could see over the waistband of your pants… his soul pulsed in his chest, desire leaking into his bones.

A message pinged onto the screen afterwards, but he had little attention to pay it. He couldn’t take his gaze off the bite of your teeth into your lower lip… the dip of your belly button… the way your flush seemed to travel all the way down your neck and to the soft skin of your chest.

**Hav-anon-a: Sorry it took so long, I couldn’t get one that I liked**

You had so very, very little to be sorry about that he let out a sharp laugh, startling Lust in his dance (almost fell of his pole) and earning him another glare from Grillz.

**Dancy-pants: nothin to apologize for. stars, cutie… such a tease,  
and blushing for me already. i love it**

**Dancy-pants: so im thinkin… i tell you what id do with you if you  
were here, and we go from there. sound good?**

Another quick reply, though it seemed like you were having trouble coming up with a good response.

**Hav-anon-a: Yeah, great. Good. Yes. I liek that. Yep**

So damn _cute_. You couldn’t even form the words, you were so anxious. He was getting hard just from that, from the bare glimpse of your flesh and your stumbling.

He wondered, as he typed out his response with a chuckle and a smirk, if you stuttered when you spoke.

**Dancy-pants: you shy? heh… i’m not even touching you, and  
your all red. it looks so great on your skin… nothing makes  
a monster wilder than the rush of a humans blood, you know.  
makes your soft little bodies smell like a drug… all your  
hormones rushing at once**

**Dancy-pants: its hot as hell**

His magic was reacting to just the thought of it, the smell of a dance floor clogged with lustful humans, sweat and arousal and alcohol heavy in the air and clinging to his bones in the bump and grind of the night scene- wet lips kissing at his vertebrae, his phalanges buried in fleshy, rounded hips, pressing teasingly back into his pelvis, the high of pheromones and sex and sugar pulsing in his soul.

His cock pressed eagerly against the elastic band of his sweatpants, his tongue heavy behind his clenched teeth and his palms itching, begging to feel the perspiration soft slick of another being writhing against him.

He scrolled up through your conversation to admire the picture you’d sent him again, biting at his lower lip line, and squeezed the thickness of his erection through his pants before interrupting whatever text you were attempting to send, the floating dots of your response disappearing as his thumb pressed at the buttons on his phone.

**Dancy-pants: i love the way your lips look. soft… wet… bet they  
taste great too… and your hips, stars… babe, i wanna dance with  
you, but i dont think i could make it through a whole song, the  
way you look… **

**Dancy-pants: maybe i should have you dance for me instead**

Your confusion was evident in the pause of your text, and your message both.

**Hav-anon-a: Oh… mmm… what do you mean?**

He chuckled darkly at your answer, already imagining you balanced on his femurs, rolling your hips against his in time with the thump of a bass beat, pressing your sex against the thickness of his arousal, his hands climbing your bare stomach-

**Dancy-pants: lap dance, sweetness. so i can watch you move for me,  
feel the song in your soul against my bones. bet you’d be a pro…**

He was struck by sudden inspiration, his smile twisting at one corner, and pulled the elastic of his waistband down, under the curve of his cock, to bare himself; he snapped a quick photo, stroking himself slowly to coax a glistening bead of magic from his tip as he did, and sent you the picture.

**Dancy-pants: i’ve got the perfect pole for you to dance on, too**

Your response was so fast he thought, for a moment, his message might have failed, but then snorted in mirth, your reactive keysmash amusing him while you tapped out a proper reply.

**Hav-anon-a: kjbslkngseofn**

**Hav-anon-a: Oh god. Yes, fuck yes. Dance, I want it**

He was flattered all over again by the reaction, flushing the palest of blues as his hand squeezed at the base of his length, teasing himself and grunting under his breath as, one handed, he sent you a reply, hoping to get a more lewd picture of his own in return very soon.

**Dancy-pants: tell me more babe… tell me everything you wanna do with my dick~ or at  
the very least, everything you want me to do to you**

* * *


	6. Sweet as Sugar (Sansy Fresh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horror may not remember a lot of things... but he remembers those that are kind. And that feed him.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

I've been with Horror before and thought it'd be okay to stop by with sweets for him and Crooks since the business is temporarily down right now. *sets basket on the counter* Don't worry it's sanitized! Thank you! Looking forward to you opening up soon!

* * *

Fresh’s smirk was telling as he picked up the basket’s cover to peek inside, tilting his head towards the shut and locked double doors across the hall as he did.

“a survivor, and a baker too… you must be the one he raps about all the time. he digs ya big time, yanno… thinks you’re a real clean scene. he’s gonna be bummed he missed you. i’d let you in if i could, my sweet little dudette, just to get the edgelord to ease up on his roll, but comic’d hang me out to dry for exposing b, ya dig?”

His smile was apologetic, but he patted the handle of the basket comfortingly.

“i’ll make sure he gets the goods, sweetness. i’ll plant a big wet one on him too, if ya want…” he offered teasingly, his sunglasses flashing the word ‘SMOOCH’ across them and his grin reflecting the chuckle shaking his shoulders.

You were fairly certain you wouldn’t see Fresh again if he tried, so you hoped he was just joking as you laughed along with him and waved your farewell, still buoyant from the news that you were, indeed, remembered and missed.

* * *

  
  



	7. The Freshest of them All (Sansy Fresh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fine folk have some questions for Sansy Fresh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a request here, or on my Tumblr:
> 
> https://uhhbananafrappe.tumblr.com/

* * *

**VictorianEmpress asked:**

**Would it be against the safety rules of this establishment for a client to seriously offer to be a host for Fresh?**

* * *

Fresh looks very touched, holding a hand to his chest and smiling crookedly.

“broseph, no lie, that’s the dopest thing anyone’s ever wanted to do for me. well, besides the hot bjs… but for real, chica, that’s off the heasy. wish i could take you up on it… but them’s the breaks.”

He shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling.

“me and my righteous little hitchhiker are kinda an item now, ya feel me? it leaves, and i’m gone, toast, dusted. kinda like to keep on truckin’, least for awhile. so like i was rappin’, real sweet of you, g… but it’s not in the cards.”

* * *

**Anonymous asked:**

**Hold up I'm confused, Fresh has a parasite? Is he sick or possessed?? Is everything ok? Do I need to call an ambulance?**

* * *

Fresh snorted, bungling a complicated-looking yoyo trick in his surprise.

“h-h-hold up, my fine broseph. you didn’t know about my roomie? the little dude’s been hitchin’ a ride in my brain cage for ‘bout a decade now, it ain’t news or nothin’. used to be like old blue, before. then i found the guy hangin’ around the dump underground and we decided it would be ‘mutually beneficial’ to hook up in a permanent way. since he was gonna die without it, and life kinda sucked balls on my end.”

He shrugged one shoulder, trying to untangle the string on his yoyo.

“don’t miss havin’ control too much. he comes in handy, when i’m on the road. gives me the ability to plane walk, just straight up hop from universe to universe without a blink of a socket. i can go anywhere i want, anytime. pretty sweet, amirite? on the other hand… the possession’s taken away my ability to feel emotions, since my soul isn’t mine anymore. bit like ink boy, but i had ‘em in the first place to remember what they were, what they felt like. …would’ve rather not’ve known at all. bit like having a black hole in my chest… just sucks up everything.”

His smile was forced now, his sunglasses blank.

“…not to be a downer or anything. i know you fly guys prefer havin’ a good time over my drama center bs. so don’t worry ‘bout sansy fresh. i’ve got it under control.”

* * *


	8. Put Your G Where Your Mouth Is (G!Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G's been busy, but he's always got time for you~

* * *

**Anonymous said:**

***Ring Ring* Hello, um, is G available for a call? I’ve got 1000g ready to pay…**

* * *

_*g, you’ve got a call on line one, my man. g, line one*_

A gout of smoke rose from the end of a smoldering cigarette, floating away on the breath of a breeze. The sun beat down on the concrete of sidewalks and the asphalt of a large parking area, the swaying, flowering bushes lining a nearby fence, and the empty road beyond the edge of a well-kept lawn.

A radio was playing somewhere, classic rock from a bygone year, the air was thick with fumes, nicotine and motor oil and car wax, and with a final flourish, under the cover of a large overhang, studded with rolled up bay doors and filled with all sorts of vehicles, spare parts, and various mechanic’s tools, a stained rag was thrown over a weary, leather draped shoulder, cracked sockets lit with golden, satisfied magic gazing proudly at the gleaming hull of a sleek, clearly well cared for motorcycle.

The slender, lanky skeleton monster took another drag at the cigarette slid between his flat teeth, shrugging an aged leather jacket into place on his shoulders with a languid, graceful motion, oil-stained hands lowering to brush the fine layer of dirt that had accumulated on his tight jeans away, to kick away a scrap of paper clinging to motorcycle boots that had seen more than their fair share of road.

One of his hands, marred by a gaping hole in its palm, rose to stroke lovingly along the shining handlebars of the bike, once satisfied with the state of his pants, the metal reflecting every overhead light in the large garage, and from behind the admiring monster, a taller, broader skeleton loomed, shark-toothed, cigarette laden smirk wide as he looked over the bike as well.

Crimson magic guttered in his sockets, a gold fang glinted in the light, massive shoulders, absent their usual furred coat, flexed almost like muscle on his frame, and his clawed hands, dark with grease, propped on exposed hipbones, bared by the tightness of his sleeveless tank and the hang of his belted shorts.

“tha chrome looks good, g. thought it’d be kinda flashy, but it don’t look half bad,” he commented gruffly, nodding in approval and knocking his fist against his companion’s shoulder, and G let out a hapless, satisfied sigh, dusting his hands on the rag over his shoulder.

“Thanks, thought so too. How’s the block coming?” he queried idly, turning to watch the hulking skeleton monster as he returned to a large workbench covered with gleaming engine components, and Red, letting out a chortle and a long exhalation of smoke, patted a coupler with a steady, knowing hand, his grin confident and sure.

“like a virgin on ‘er weddin’ night,” he joked crudely, his coarse laughter echoing off the bare concrete walls, before nodding his cracked skull towards the now silent speaker set in one of the corners, a heavy brow rising. “speakin’ of… sounds like ya got a job.”

G nodded in accord, throwing the rag in his hands towards a basket of similarly stained scraps of cloth (he missed), and kicked at the kickstand on his motorcycle, wheeling it away from the center of the floor and towards a clear spot, closer to one of the walls.

“Yeah, sounds like it; was gonna head on in,” he mused, rolling the nearly burnt out cigarette butt between his teeth, and settled his baby in place, with a pat of his hand to the seat, before sending the silhouette of the larger monster a glance. “You good out here?”

Red let out a scoff in response, gaze set on the engine he was rebuilding, and raised a dirty hand (and his middle finger) over his shoulder.

“i don’t need ta be babysat, fuck off an’ go getcher dick wet,” he grunted dismissively, shrugging him and his offer off gruffly, but G, unoffended by the big monster’s coarseness, merely shrugged and made his way back into the air-conditioned warehouse made brothel, shutting the garage door behind himself and strolling down the long hallway towards the main floor of the building.

Red was best left alone in his current mood; he wasn’t handling the forced quarantine very well at all, separated from his adoptive daughter and his favorite lovers alike (he was worried sick about them, they all knew it), and had sequestered himself to the garage weeks ago just to keep himself occupied, taking apart and putting back together just about everything he could lay his hands on.

There were few complaints from the rest of them. If that was where the bad-tempered monster was happiest, and was kept from biting off any more heads than poked past the garage doors, then that was fine by just about everyone.

On his way to the lobby, G passed the library (Papyrus was “redecorating”, which meant every book had been removed from the shelves and was being sorted by alphabetical order), the smoke lounge (uncommonly deserted), and touched two fingers to his brow bone in a silent salute to a smaller statured, drably dressed skeleton standing in the lounge’s doorway (Comic grinned back at him, jerking his skull up in a nod of acknowledgment, before turning his sockets back to the main floor, clearly keeping a metaphorical eye on things) before letting himself into the lounge itself.

Or he tried to, at least, stymied by the crowd gathered around the walls of the room, hoots and cheers and catcalls rising and falling in a cacophony. Brows drawn, he leaned around Comic, trying to see what was causing the commotion.

The blithe, unflappable monster was present, drawn away from his self-appointed duty of caretaker, for good reason, apparently; while G had been in the garage, it looked like some sort of bomb had gone off in the cavernous main room of the building, couches and tables thrown here and there, glass shards smashed into the deep carpeting, and numerous bones, orange and rust, embedded in the ceiling, walls, and flooring.

It looked like just about every monster in the lounge had gathered to watch the center of the room, where two skeleton monsters seemed to be locked in a deadly wrestling match, snarls, the sound of exchanging blows, and rumbling growls filling the air.

Huh. Stretch and Mutt. He’d have expected this kind of behavior from the more savage monsters…

Humming beneath his breath, G knocked his elbow against Comic’s shoulder, nodding his chin towards the dervish of extended claws and bared teeth and flared magic when he again gained the coolly collected monster’s attention.

“Someone spike the punchbowl?”

Comic snorted through his nasal cavity, settling one hand into his jacket pocket, the other swirling a cup of black coffee, and leaned a shoulder against the door-frame beside him; he seemed oddly ill at ease, considering the mess the pair were making, one slippered foot folded over the other.

“raz was making fun of blueberry again. pushed a little too far this time; stretch is out for blood, or so i’ve gained from all the growling,” he mused over the edge of his coffee mug, gaze moving back to the scuffling, snarling monsters locked in combat, and G let out an understanding huff, folding his arms across his chest.

“Ahh… yeah, that’d do it. Tensions are kinda high, was bound to happen,” he hummed, tapping a single forefinger against a rolled up jacket sleeve, and flinched slightly when another volley of bones slammed into the ceiling, loosing plaster dust and a shower of drywall onto the carpeting and fighting monsters. “…thinking about stepping in?”

It was a job Comic was used to doing, when differences couldn’t be settled and things started getting out of hand; every monster present knew better than to cross the Sanses of the original universes, knew of their casual dominance in both magic and might, and when push came to shove, it was left in his hands to settle disparities and bad blood, even if he didn’t want to.

But he looked entirely uninterested in the prospect at the moment, even as something glass shattered when the fight rolled across the floor, getting dangerously close to the bar. He seemed more interested in his coffee, yawning widely and watching, unimpressed, as the gangling monsters clawed at each other’s throats.

“nah. long as they leave it at just beating the shit out of each other, i don’t see the problem with getting some frustrations out. repairs can be made later; b just wanted to make sure they didn’t kill each other,” he dismissed, and G, jutting his jaw, hummed beneath his breath.

He could appreciate that. A simple fight between generally good friends wasn’t so uncommon between monsters, especially when they were all as highly strung as they were at the moment. They’d probably be laughing about it later that day.

“Boss lady sent you down then?”

Comic nodded into his mug, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket (checking a message, from the looks of it) before shoving it back in.

“mmm. wanted to come herself, chew the both of them new assholes, but… yeah, no. that’s not happening,” he murmured drily, a note of steely protectiveness hardening his cool tone, and G sent the shorter monster a sideways glance, raising a cracked, querying brow.

Comic had come a long, long way in a short time, in regards to his relationship with the director of the lounge and how he was handling her pregnancy. The usually intelligent, composed skeleton had fumbled it out the gate, impressing none of the rest of them with his tactless manner and, in fact, angering more than a few with his abrupt, lingering departure (G himself had been particularly furious, but Red had beaten him to the punch on setting him straight), but he’d made every effort to make things right ever since.

One could only hold a grudge for so long (though Fresh seemed to be managing handily), and it was more than obvious to anyone that knew the monster that Comic was doing everything in his power to make up for his mistake. His insistence on closing the lounge and quarantining B was ready proof of that, saying nothing of his efforts to single-handedly provide for and protect the pregnant human woman.

G had forgiven him (after a few harsh, slightly threatening words, he was ashamed to admit), and regained the old respect that had once existed between them; it was hard not to, with everything he was doing to care for B. As such, the taller, taciturn monster only nodded approvingly and clapped a hand to his shoulder, pleased with his efforts to keep the stubborn woman out of harm’s way.

“Good on ya; wouldn’t’ve expected anything less. How’s the kiddo treating her, by the way?”

Comic let out a half frustrated, half bemused chuckle at that, rolling his gaze back to G with an ironic smile spread across his face.

“kicking her ass. her back is killing her, she’s sore all the time, and that’s not even counting the cravings. morning sickness is a bitch, no surprises there, and the mood swings are even better. one minute she’s yelling at me about the thermostat, the next she’s crying over a song on the radio,” he sighed, patient, if tired, indulgence weighing his deep voice (there was a weary sort of fondness in his gaze, even given his gentle complaints), and G, completely understanding, chuckled as well, tsking his tongue against the backs of his teeth.

“Poor thing. Say hi for me, and let me know if you need to tap out for a bit, yeah? I know you’re trying to handle it all while we’re still on lockdown, but a little help every once in a while doesn’t hurt,” he encouraged sincerely, squeezing his shoulder meaningfully, and Comic, his smile softening in thanks, downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

“might take you up on that. i know she misses you… and stars know i need a day or two to recharge,” he groaned, raising his free hand to rub over his face (there were dark circles under his sockets, now that G was looking closer), and the taller monster, blinking at his admission, felt his smile curve knowingly, a soft snort of laughter escaping him.

“Riding you ragged, huh,” he chortled, and Comic groaned under his breath, shifting stiffly where he leaned against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge.

“‘m not trying to complain, especially when i volunteered for it, but… _fuck_ , she’s insatiable. i think i might actually be chafing. i didn’t even know that was possible…” he muttered wearily, shaking his skull side to side before dropping his hand away from his face, and G, grinning broadly (humans were notoriously difficult to keep satisfied when pregnant with monsters; it truly wasn’t a surprise to hear B had an even higher libido than usual), snickered to himself.

“Damn… mama’s thirsty. Red didn’t want in?” he queried, jerking his skull back towards the garage, and Comic, letting out a weary sigh, sent the taller monster a pained, deadpan look.

“red still isn’t speaking to me. can’t really arrange a shift change when he pretends i don’t exist every time i come near him.”

Better than an outright fight, at the very least, but understandable as well; ignoring the smaller monster was about as magnanimous as Red was capable of being, considering his usually volcanic temper.

“Typical. Well, let her know I’m comin’ to keep her company for a while, then; ‘m always happy to help B. Shoot me a text when you need me,” G rejoined, mentally tallying any tasks he had to do before he devoted his next few days to the pregnant human (he honestly didn’t have much, now that he’d finished with his bike; that had been his big project) and waving a hand to the tired monster in farewell before finally shouldering his way through the crowd around the lounge floor.

He nodded to a group of sharply dressed monsters lingering around one of the poker tables, waving away their offers to join in their bets on the fight, and, with one final glance towards the scuffle (they seemed to be tiring out, if he could tell anything from the lowered pitch of their growling), he ducked into the lobby of the lounge, flicking the burnt-out butt of his cigarette into a nearby trashcan and raising a hand in greeting to the bodacious skeleton seated at the reception desk, who had let out a whoop when G stepped into view.

“wha-wha-whazzup, g-man? was startin’ to wig out a bit, thought you might’ve gotten pulled into the super unchill llama drama out there. line one, all yours- b said her office was up for grabs for calls, too.”

Fresh jerked his thumb over his shoulder and spun a neon orange fidget spinner with the other, settling both of his feet on top of the desk in front of him, and G shot him a thumbs up and a sly smile before slipping into the cool, organized office space, shutting the door behind him and settling at the freshly dusted desk within.

The phone on the corner of the desk blinked at him cheerily, and without further ado, he pressed the tip of a phalange to the speaker button.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sugar~” he purred the moment the line clicked on, settling himself in the office chair comfortably, and there was a scuffling from your end of the line, clearly the sounds of you returning to the phone, before your voice broke over the settled quiet, slight worry in your tone as you inquired after what had kept him, if he was alright… if you were bothering him.

He let out a smooth chuckle, an easy, indulgent smile lifting his cracked lip line and the chair beneath him creaking as he sat further back into it, one booted foot rising to cross over his knee.

“No trouble, honey, no trouble at all. Just the usual drama; a little extra, with all the tension building up, but it’s nothing we can’t handle, and nothing you need to worry your pretty head over,” he reassured you, feeling at his front pockets for his box of cigarettes (B hated the smell, but he’d make sure to air the place out before she came back), and slid a fresh one between his teeth once he located them, snapping his fingers, a spark of golden magic jumping from his fingertips, to light it.

“Speaking of… how are you holding up? Staying safe? I know it’s a tough time over there, lots going on…”

You sounded relieved and far calmer when you replied, assuring him of your safety and health, and asked after his own, if he was handling things well or if he was in any danger; you sounded so concerned, he could practically see the little wrinkle between your brows, the flash of worry in your eyes. His smile melted at the thought, the trail of smoke trailing from his nasal cavity and the simmering end of his cigarette twisting into a heart.

“Aww… that’s so sweet. Yeah, I’ve been fine, we all have. Not really an issue for us, we’re mostly just having trouble keeping ourselves occupied,” he relayed soothingly, swaying back and forth in the comfortable office chair, before his soft smile sharpened, the magic in his sockets moving from the neat line of books on one of B’s shelves and back to the phone.

“But that’s what this service is for, isn’t it? Finding something for us to do…” he crooned, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to blow a stream of smoke into the air, his smirk only widening at the heated gasp you let out at his change in tone.

He scooted the chair further into the desk, sliding the cigarette back between his teeth, and traced an errant phalange along the stitching of his jeans, his sockets hooding seductively.

“It’s the nicest thing, for you to think of me… take the time to call me up. Makes a monster feel so appreciated… so _wanted_ ,” he murmured, imagining the flush that was sure to be creeping up your cheeks, the hints of arousal in your blood, the way you would squirm under his gaze.

It was his favorite thing in the world, teasing humans… it was such a pleasure, to watch them lose their composure, to scent their desire as it grew in them, to see them tremble with their excitement, almost too much for their soft little bodies… to know just what they wanted, and that _he_ had bred that want in them.

It was an intoxicating power, and one he used almost to the point of indiscretion; it had been so long, since he had been able to indulge in it, that he could already feel his magic reacting, his soul warming in his ribcage, his bones pulsing in the confines of his clothes… the zipper of his pants growing tight.

G shifted in his seat, humming under his breath and arching his tongue against the backs of his teeth… wishing he could drag it up the length of your throat, taste the surge of your hormones and the drip of your perspiration for himself.

Fuck… he was hard just thinking about it.

“It’s such a shame, that you couldn’t come in to see me… just think of all the fun we could have together…” he breathed heatedly into the speaker of the phone he sat before, his palm pressing to the curve of his cock through the rough material of his jeans, and grunted, beneath his breath, in absolute satisfaction at the tremble of your voice when you wished you could be there, how much you wanted to see him and touch him.

He could hear the lust in your voice, the rasp of desire in your wanting words, the keen of the gentle whimper you accidentally let slip…

Stars, what he wouldn’t give to have you in his lap, feel your hands, so shy and tremulous, on his bare ribs… see the bite of your teeth into your lower lip and hear the catch of your breath when you moved against the length of his arousal… watch you fall under his spell until you _begged_ for him-

You whimpered again, louder and hotter, when he breathed out a quiet growl, reactive to the squeeze of his fingers around himself and the provocative images filling his skull, and his smile twisted to fit the hunger flaring inside his soul, the tip of his tongue extending to flick against a sharp canine.

“You sound flustered, sweet thing… so cute. We’ve barely started, and you’re already riled?” he teased gruffly, his smooth tenor deepening in his own climbing arousal, and though you protested, spluttering and trying to save face, he dismissed both with a rumbling laugh, pausing only long enough for you to hear, over the phone, jingle of his belt being undone, the slide of his zipper as he pulled it down.

How you would stare, watching him pull himself from his jeans… watching his hand climb the length of his cock before he reached to wrap your fingers around it instead…

“Don’t be shy, baby… there’s nothing to be ashamed of. If my voice turns you on, all the better… cuz you’re turning me on too,” he admitted quietly, rubbing a thumb over the head of his dick as he squeezed himself in time with the haltering inhalation of your breath, as you realized what he was doing on his side of the call.

“Now why don’t you tell me a little about you… and I’ll tell you a little about how I think you’d look under me.”

* * *


	9. A Truly Epic Time (Fresh and Epic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epic rolls onto the scene in a big way.

* * *

**Anonymous asked:**

**Yo, can I get a sick line from Fresh and Epic? *transfers 4000g* Keep the tip my radical bruhs ;)**

* * *

Fresh snickered around the stick of what appeared to be a cherry blow pop, twirling the cord of the desk phone set on the corner of his desk. There was little to no reason for the phone to have a cord, as it appeared to be very modern, but that seemed to matter none to the flashily dressed monster, his sunglasses proclaiming ‘SWEET’ across them as he kicked back in his office chair and, with the toe of one shoe, pulled B’s abandoned chair closer to his side of the large desk.

“that might be too much rad in one room, dude~ we’re gonna bring down the hiz house, for real… soon as he shows his radical face, at-” he started to enthuse, his grin broad enough to bare his single gold tooth, but was cut off by all four doors of the building blowing open, a gust of wind rustling the curtains over the windows.

They admitted a moment later, with grandiose, canned applause from an unknown location, a skeleton monster that had never before set foot in the lounge, his ankle length, dark purple trench coat flapping around his ankles and a pair of shades, fashionable and sleek, covering his sockets, one cracked enough to part the bone of his face from temple to lip line.

He held what looked like a large duffel bag, slung over one shoulder, and wore a wide, friendly smile on his face, a half gloved hand rising to shift his sunglasses away and to the top of his hooded head as he stepped inside, the doors shutting behind him of their own accord. He let out a loud, excited whoop when he spotted Fresh seated at the front desk, upon inspection of the room, his single lit socket flaring with both recognition and enthusiasm and his bag slamming into the carpeted floor, immediately forgotten.

“fresh, my bruh-thafucka!” he exclaimed, arms spread wide as he crossed the lobby floor and, with a swift, easy leap, jumped the edge of the desk to land neatly in B’s chair (he held up his own 10, pulled from seemingly thin air), and Fresh, letting out a cry of recognition of his own, set the receiver of the phone down on the desktop and raised his own arms.

“awww shiznit, dawg, ‘s about to get crunk up in _here_ ~ lay it on me, young blood.”

The pair immediately devolved into an extremely long, complex handshake, grinning like madmen as it sped to ridiculous speeds, before finally settling into a quick, back thumping hug. The two clearly knew each other, and the new skeleton, releasing his friend and leaning back in his newly acquired seat, plonked his brown, thigh-high boots on top of the desk before him as though he belonged there, folding his arms behind his head comfortably.

“what is _**gucci**_ , famsquad? ain’t seen ya in a hot minute; real talk, figured you were lightin’ it up over in the swapverse,” the new skeleton, apparently named Epic, according to the ‘Hello, my name is:’ sticker that had appeared out of nowhere on one of the lapels of his trench coat, crowed, leaning back far enough in the desk chair to make it creak, and Fresh snickered, plopping back into his own chair and twirling in it.

“naaaaahh, homes- been hangin’ out, makin’ some green, stayin’ clean, checkin’ the scene, all that jazz.”

“facts? b did say this place was the goat… figured i’d check it, but i didn’t know my real ones was chillin’. i am stoked as _hell,_ bruh.”

Fresh held a hand to his chest, his sunglasses flashing the word ‘D’AWW’ across them.

“bro…”

Epic shrugged his shoulders, winking his uncracked socket at his longtime friend, before holding up both of his hands, silently calling for order.

“aight, aight… tea time, bruh. deadass, cross finessed my stash before i blasted off, and i am low-key _trippin’_ ,” he complained, throwing an arm across his face and pulling the lever on the side of the chair to lean all the way back dramatically, and Fresh raised both of his bony brows in surprise.

It did sound like something Cross would do… he was still salty that he hadn’t been invited, he knew that for sure. Supremely uncool to take it out on Epic, though. Wasn’t his fault… it was B’s rules.

“for real? wack. no big, we’ll burn some dubs… but broseph, i got ya one better. check it: got an anon on the line, lookin’ for a good time on the chiller thriller with only the dopest of the dope… you and me, g. you down?” he supplied, wagging his raised brows and jerking a thumb at the phone chilling on the desktop, and Epic shot back up in the office chair so quickly his sunglasses launched across the lobby, surprising Gaster, where he stood chatting with Comic beside the coffee stand, into nearly spilling his tea all over his sweater.

Comic chortled at that, over the rim of his mug, and tossed the glasses back with a flick of his finger. Epic caught them with an unapologetic smirk, saluting the pair with them before stowing them in an inside pocket of his trench coat and turning back to Fresh with a wide, excited grin spread across his clever face.

“count me in, my guy, sansy fresh and your bruh epic’ve got this on lock, no cap,” he enthused, scooting his chair closer to Fresh’s side of the large reception desk, and the bodacious skeleton beside him smirked broadly at that, making to pick up the phone receiver before spotting, on the edge of his desk, a paper plate covered with seran wrap.

“suh-weet, let’s rock the heasy- oh, hol’ up, bro. b madeja your fix, wanted to welcome you to the lounge. classic’s got her on lockdown, so she couldn’t slide ‘em your way herself, but i promised i’d getcha your rocks.”

He slid the plate across the desktop, knocking a few balled up post it notes to the ground at his feet (joining a rather large gathering of them already beneath his desk), and Epic, plucking the wrap away from the top with one neat motion, let out an exaggerated gasp, snatching up one of the sweets within with almost worshipful awe.

“i… can’t even, bruh. this is so SICK! best. boss. ever. makes me cookies, lets us chill here for free, and _**pays**_ us for knockin’ one out? i am shook, fam. these digs are on _fleek_ ,” he enthused, stuffing the cookie he held into his mouth and groaning in absolute ecstasy, and Fresh snickered, knocking his shoulder against the other monster’s.

“it’s a tight gig, broseph. now let’s hit it~”

* * *

Gaster, blowing over the steaming amber liquid in his teacup from his seat in the kitchenette area, lowered his cracked brows over skeptical sockets, watching the pair of ridiculous skeleton monsters crowd around the phone receiver.

“…I have no idea what either of them are saying. Is this some kind of secret code?” he asked of the monster beside him, indicating the scene with a nod of his skull, and Comic, diverted from pouring himself a second cup of coffee, sent the pair a glance before snorting through his nasal cavity.

“’s slang, dad. generational stuff. you missed the bell curve on both of them, big time,” he explained, sliding the coffee pot back onto its warming plate, and the ancient monster brightened, turning to his companion with an excited spark of recognition in his gaze.

“Oh, I know some slang! It’s the bee’s knees~” he said confidently, holding his chin high, and Comic only raised his brow bones at him, smiling in silent, pained pity. Gaster deflated at that, his broad shoulders lowering.

“…out of date?”

“by about eighty years.”

“Drat.”

* * *

The moment the receiver left the surface of the desk, Epic leaned into it, mouth still full of cookie but enthusiasm unable to be held in check a moment longer.

“eyyyyo~ what is goooooood, bruh?”

You snickered, telling him you were well, and Fresh reached out to pull his hood over his face playfully before leaning into the receiver himself.

“thanks for waitin’, my rad little g. epic just slid his way onto the scene, though… the gang’s all here,” he revealed, snatching one of Epic’s cookies while the chuckling monster struggled with his hood, and you laughed along with them, your mood instantly boosted by their energy.

This was just the pickup you’d needed, and you told them as much, as well as inquiring after their well being. Epic made a soft sound of appreciation as he finally managed to wrestle himself free of his hood, smacking Fresh on the shoulder with a rubber chicken he pulled from the inside of his sleeve.

“aww. we’re good, bruh, too blessed to be stressed. way i hear, quarantine won’t be lasting too much longer on our end.”

Fresh nodded in confirmation of this, summoning an orange foam sword to bop his friend back with.

“good thing, too. things’ve been getting dicey, keeping all these uncool brosephs cooped up with no cute humans to screw.”

The fights had been getting more and more ridiculous, and were starting to add up. They could only be glad that Error and most of the more destructive monsters had decided to leave to attend to business in their own universes, totally uncaring of the plight of humanity.

Fresh really didn’t want to think about the tantrums Nightmare would be throwing, being ignored for so long. Last thing they needed was a hole in reality to deal with.

Epic made a sound of understanding, throwing a curious look at the closed and roped off double doors that led into the lounge, and then hummed beneath his breath.

“bet b’s ready to fly the coop,” he surmised, squeezing the chicken in his hand at the same moment to make it squawk, and Fresh snorted, his sunglasses shifting to read ‘HELLA’ across them.

“big time. she never was one to like just sitting around.”

Epic nodded sagely, sneaking another cookie from his plate (he admired it with a clinical but lovestruck expression on his face before popping it into his mouth), and Fresh, waving away the conversation, turned back to the matter at hand… specifically, their waiting customer. His smile twisted at one edge, his posture reclining back in his office chair comfortably.

“but speakin’ of cute humans and knocking boots… here we are, dropping your sweet line, on the dl. were you just down for a chat?” he queried suggestively, arching a brow bone high, and Epic, catching on to his game, shared a sly smirk with him, brushing crumbs from his pants and leaning into the phone speaker.

“heh… or were you jonesing for an epicly fresh time?”

You flushed, flustered and overpowered by their change in tone, but admitted that yes, you’d been looking for something a little more intimate than a conversation. Their unified chuckle only darkened your blush. You could practically see Fresh’s grin stretched across his face, knowing and provocative in his satisfaction.

“figured. can’t blame you though… i know i’m a tough slice to resist. epic here, though, i dunno…” he teased, and Epic scoffed in affront.

“bet, bruh! i could out bang you any day of the week,” he bragged, then turned his attention to the phone again and sent it a wink.

“though you rang for the twofer experience, huh~ needed both of our radical attentions… the most lit kind of sandwich. go off, bruh, we stan a thirsty human.”

Fresh’s smile only widened, his phalange curling into the phone cord again idly.

“you came to the right place, awesome possum. subway isn’t the only one selling five dollar footlongs~”

Epic attempted to hold back his hilarity at that, but nearly fell from his chair when he failed, roaring with laughter and almost crying in his amusement. Fresh looked overtly pleased with himself, crossing his legs and grinning broadly.

“just give a sec, g. we’ll be back to your regularly scheduled boning after these messages~”

It was extremely difficult to keep them composed enough to make it through your call without them busting out laughing every two minutes, and though it honestly wasn’t very sexy, you still had the best time you’d had in ages, listening to their banter and their jokes and laughing until your abdomen ached.

* * *


	10. You Look a Little Blue (UT Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comic needs some r'n'r. Some time with you should fix him right up.

* * *

**Anonymous asked:**

***is ready with 2,069g* Can I get a video call with Comic? If he'd like, I can wear the jacket I got from fangamer that looks like his...(especially if thats the only thing he wants me to wear ;3)**

* * *

Comic let out a long, weary sigh, closing B’s office door behind him with a bump of a hip. He looked much less tired, after a few days of rest from his self-appointed duties, but something was clearly still weighing on him as he slumped into the chair at the desk, scrubbing a hand over his face before turning B’s desktop computer on.

His usual smile was spread across his face by the time he found your request in the inbox, though, all that remained of his distemper the persistent circles beneath his sockets, and when you picked up his request for a video call, he looked almost his normal self. Any notice you would have paid his out of sorts emotional state was immediately distracted by his wink and the curve of his smile.

“heya, kid. sorry it took so long getting back to you… it’s been mayhem, as i’m sure you know. hope you’re doin’ well on your side… we’re keeping things going as best we can over here, while still trying to keep everyone safe.”

You affirmed his hope, confirming your good health and safety, but when you tried to compliment him on his forward-thinking, in closing the lounge, he waved it away, shrugging one shoulder dismissively.

“it’s what needed to be done. the last thing anyone wants is to get sick while they’re trying to have a good time… and b was digging her heels in a bit. something about people having someplace nice to relax, with all of the discord… she was gonna go help out at our world’s hospitals, can you believe that? ridiculous.”

He looked slightly angry, for a moment, tapping a phalange against the top of the desk and gritting his teeth.

“she’s been being difficult. still doesn’t really get what that baby is gonna take out of her, how weak it’ll make her. if she gets close to anything like this virus, she’s toast, but she-” he started to rant, his sockets narrowing and his magic sparking, but cut himself off, shaking his skull and smiling ruefully.

“you didn’t request me to listen to me complain. sorry, babe… i won’t waste our time any further.”

His guilty smile quirked at one corner, his posture reclining as he leaned against the backrest of B’s office chair.

“i think you said you had something you wanted to wear for me? i haven’t gotten to see the merch yet… bet it looks great against bare skin,” he crooned suggestively, crooking a bony brow indicatively, and though you frowned at his cutting himself short, you obeyed his unspoken request hurriedly, rushing back to your bedroom to strip and don the jacket you’d bought yourself.

You were slightly nervous, sliding back in front of your computer monitor, clasping the undone zipper together to hide your bared flesh, but Comic’s encouraging smile melted your resistance away, the heavy weight of his eager gaze warming every inch of your skin you revealed to him.

Your knees shook at the low, pleased rumble of a growl he let out, like distant thunder; his magical irises flicked up to meet your eyes, craven and heated, before dropping again to your nearly bared form, a gentle glow behind his teeth and a flare from his left socket signaling the activation of his higher magic.

“i was right… though i’m not surprised. thought you’d look good in blue. s’ a nice jacket, too. not as nice as mine, but nothing really compares to the original, does it~” he teased, winking a socket shut and poking the tip of his neon blue tongue between his teeth.

“now, if it suits you… i think it’d be hood to see a little more of you. i hate to seam impertinent, but you’ve got me in a bit of a stitch,” he went on, laughter edging along his voice at his own turn of phrase, and nodded down to his own lap when you sent him a quizzical look.

He let out a chuckle when you flushed in realization a moment later, and leaned forward to prop his chin on a raised palm, satisfaction and leering seduction in his narrowed sockets.

“so as much of a shame as it is to lose the… kind of divine look of you like this… i wanna see what else you’ve got up your sleeves~”

* * *


	11. Seeing Stars (Outertale Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova has something he wants to show you.
> 
> (Bara Day Event)

* * *

**rainbowut asked:**

**Ah, okay thanks! *plops 10,000G down.* I want Nova boio**

* * *

The moment you stepped inside the lobby, a burst of confetti rained down on your head from above, accompanied by the bang of several poppers and a short, jubilant fanfare. You jumped, surprised by the sudden noise, and from the reception desk, Fresh grinned at you from around a paper party horn, a party hat tilted precariously on top of his backwards baseball cap. Behind him, stretched out across the wall and partially covering the neon Banana Lounge sign, was a banner colorfully declaring it to, at last, be Bara Day.

Fresh himself hadn’t been exempt to the special event, apparently; as you approached his desk, finger combing pieces of glitter and confetti out of your hair, you became more and more aware of just how much bigger he was than usual, crammed into his office chair and towering over the desk even in his repose. He shot you a pair of finger guns as you came even with his desk, blowing into his party horn at the same time with a shrill tweet, and as he moved, his chair creaked violently under his weight.

He didn’t seem all that alarmed by it, and pulled his party horn from his mouth with the finesse of a practiced smoker, holding it between two fingers and blowing a stream of bright pink smoke (which smelled heavily of cotton candy) from his nasal cavity.

“yo yo, homie joe! now that you’re on the scene, we can get the party started~ you were hankering for an outta this world night with nova, right? sick~”

You nodded in affirmation, batting at the cloud of colored smoke hanging around you (the scent had changed, morphing into something vaguely fruity), and Fresh nodded enthusiastically, plucking a rubber band ball from his desk and tossing it over his shoulder towards the other side of the desk. It landed, with a clatter and several pressed buttons, on B’s keypad, and beside the sign declaring the lounge to be closed to the public at large, the double doors sprung open.

Fresh held up his hands in victory, upsetting one of the hanging plants on the ceiling and nearly knocking it down.

“nothin’ but net, ha! aight, dawg, head on in. my g was sayin’ he was gonna be in the kitchen, putting something together for you love birds to graze on,” he dismissed, nodding towards the doors indicatively, and you thanked him before letting yourself into the main floor of the lounge, immediately turning left to follow the hall towards the kitchen.

You weren’t used to seeing the place so empty, the usually laughter filled rooms and bustling hallways almost eerily silent. You supposed it was for the best, though, to keep everyone safe and all that, and shrugged as you turned to step through the open doorway of the large kitchen, peeking around for your beau.

And there he was in front of one of the range tops, his back to you as he tipped something out of a frying pan and onto a plate. He was humming, his fluffy jacket tied around his hips and his NASA t-shirt speckled with the glittering space dust that seemed to spawn from him constantly (it was a tough gig, you assumed, being made of literal starlight and planetary particles), and as he turned to plop the steaming pan into one of the cavernous sinks, he caught sight of you lingering in the doorway.

His smile stretched wide across his face, his sockets sparkling with his luminescent magic and a flush of navy blue flitting across his dust speckled cheekbones. Even nearly two feet taller as he was, he managed to look as utterly non-threatening as he always did, and wiped his hands on his shorts as soon as they were free of the pan he had been holding, raising his arms to welcome you in for the hug you desperately needed.

“hey there, starshine~ was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost. honestly, though, i’m glad you came by later in the day. i came up with something we can do that should be fun,” he enthused, squeezing you tightly in his arms, then snickered at himself.

“well. besides what you came here for in the first place.”

You chuckled with him, shyly smoothing your hand along his large, warm ribcage, and he bent to nuzzle against the side of your face tenderly (“plenty of time for that too, don’t worry.”) before breaking away and reaching to pick up the tray he had been filling with food, which appeared to be an assortment of various finger foods, all extremely star themed.

“hope you like prosciutto; i was feeling fancy. now c'mon! i’ll show you what i’ve got lined up for us. grab that bottle of wine, yeah?”

He led the way across the lounge floor and to a flight of stairs and a set of steel doors, which parted at the press of a button to reveal a cozy elevator (thank the lord, you hadn’t been looking forward to climbing stairs at the moment), and emerged from it into a small building with several high set windows, the stairs down to the other floors of the lounge, and a single door, which opened to reveal…

The roof?

“it’s a great place to spend the evenings. not a lot of the others come up here, so it’s usually just me, myself, and my telescope,” he explained, holding the heavy door open for you with his foot, and led the way across the flat expanse of the rooftop.

You had to give him credit, it was a nice view; besides the industrial-sized air conditioners set here and there across the rooftop, you could see for miles around the revamped warehouse, all the way to the sun setting over the ocean on the horizon. It was beautiful, a slightly chill wind starting to blow and reducing the heat of the day as it did, and, as Nova had said, very peaceful, almost serene but for the whirring of the A/C units.

He led you to one of the corners of the building, to where a checkered blanket, a pile of cutlery and dinnerware, and a telescope were set up, and gestured with a broad shoulder and a tilt of his excited grin for you to make yourself at home there, which you did gladly. He settled himself behind you comfortably, setting his thick femurs on either side of you and his chest against your back (you flushed prettily, but didn’t move, especially not when he bent to press a soft kiss to the column of your throat), and set your tray of food to the side.

“thought it might be nice to watch the sunset together, and maybe watch the stars come out. you show me your favorites, i’ll show you mine, that kind of thing. what do you think?” he asked quietly, setting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your middle (they were so big you felt like you were being embraced by a tree) to meet your eye hopefully, and you turned your head to press your lips to his bony pair in answer.

You’d known he was a romantic, but this was beyond your expectations. You were delighted, swept away by the effort he’d put into your evening together. You sighed into the kiss happily, one hand rising to stroke his cheekbone, the other lacing with his far larger phalanges, and he grunted under his breath, leaning into you and kissing you back soundly.

You didn’t see a moment of the sunset, preoccupied with tangling your tongue with the large monster’s own until it had long ago faded beyond the distant waves of the ocean. You parted long enough to pick at the h'ordourves, shyly feeding each other and pointing out stars as they dawned in the darkening sky (he knew far, far more than you did, putting your knowledge of the heavens to complete and utter shame), but returned to trading breath and exchanging more and more lingering touches before too long.

He denied your offer to have sex on the blanket (“the gravel underneath will hurt you, i’ve got a perfectly good bed downstairs.”), but he did bring you to keening, messy orgasm three times, settled between his legs with his hands buried beneath your clothes and his breath hot against your throat before finally deciding to satiate himself.

He made love to you with as much care and attention as he had paid everything else during the evening, and you kept each other up into the early hours of the morning before either of you were, at last, fully satisfied. You were going to be sore and you knew it, as you drifted off to sleep on his already steadily rising and falling chest (all the foreplay had been necessary, he was enormous in this state), but it was so, so worth it.

* * *


	12. A Fell Wind (UF! Dalliance Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked for it, and Fell's gonna deliver.
> 
> Bara Day Event
> 
> (Fell is from an Underfell Sans from my Frans fic, Dalliance.)

* * *

heart8beatx asked:

I may be a little late in requesting this for the Bara Day special, but I'll try my luck! I'm going to be brave (or stupid) and request Fell from Dalliance. I have no idea how that'll go since the guy is already built like a tank, so... Fingers crossed for this gal? ^^;;

* * *

Fresh stared at you for a short, surprised moment, one bony brow raised over the rim of his sunglasses (‘U SURE?’), but shook away his shock a second later with a shrug of his shoulders and a wry smile, taking your pay and, to your surprise, setting his prepared stack of release forms to the side.

He chuckled at your look askance, tipping the fat sack of gold coins into the box one-handed.

“he’s a mean sob, scene queen, but he won’t kill you unless he’s completely off his nut. just… keep on the fly side of his temper, know what i mean? you know what he’s capable of when he’s lunchn’, and with how big he is right now… i wanna see you roll out of here tomorrow morning.”

You were perfectly aware, and shivered in your seat at the thought of the sheer size the already sizable monster had attained. Fresh puttered around his desk for a few more moments, tossing you a 'complimentary’ bottle of lube that, funnily enough, had a very flattering compliment written on it in B’s curly handwriting, and offering a basket of condoms in a variety of colors and slightly worrisome sizes, before scooting his chair across the back of the desk to press a crimson button on B’s call pad.

The double doors swung open silently, beneath their veneer of curtains, and Fresh, with a grandiose gesture and a ridiculous bow from his rolling chair, indicated that you enter.

“pretty sure you’ll find the numbskull knockin’ a few back, chica; you know him. oh… and if the mofo gets to be too jank for you, just gimme a ring, and i’ll spring you, straight up. now go have you some fuuun~” he encouraged, turning back to his desk to sort through a stack of papers that looked like printed memes, and with a snicker and a shrug of your own shoulders, you let yourself into the lounge, heading towards where you were absolutely sure he would be.

The bar.

The lounge was almost eerily empty, cleared out for the special event (the brochure you’d been sent in the mail had explained the safety procedures, that you would be interacting with your requested monster _only_ and should observe quarantine procedures for several weeks afterwards), so even all the way across the cavernous room, it was difficult to miss the hulking form sitting at the long, gleaming bar, nursing what you were certain wasn’t his first glass of the day.

Despite B’s stringent smoking parameters, he was also biting at the end of a nearly burnt-out cigarette, and was flipping through a magazine when you finally made it to his side, looking up the feet that separated your heights with expectant awe.

On any given day, Fell already stood at an intimidating 6'7”, broad at the shoulder and thick as a tree trunk; today, he looked nearly gargantuan, even stooped over on his stool. The tumbler of alcohol looked absolutely minuscule in his giant hand, as though he could crush it in his palm with a twitch of his thick, clawed phalanges, and as he turned his cracked skull to glance down at you, the scarlet magic burning in his sockets inspecting you with impatient annoyance, the line of his razor-sharp fangs was as wide and as large as a Great White Shark’s.

Whatever reaction you’d anticipated from Fell, it hadn’t been laughter; as soon as he looked away from his drink for even a moment, taking in your slight form and your wheelchair, he let out a crude, harsh snort of cruel amusement through his nasal cavity, condescension and mockery filling his scorching gaze.

“you gotta be fuckin’ with me. ’s gotta be a joke; ain’t no way _you_ requested **me**. ya musta mistaken me fer red, doll… i ain’t inta bein’ gentle with my 'patrons’, an’ you look like a gentle breeze’d fuck ya three ways from sunday. you can’t handle me, don’t fool yerself.”

He let out a chortle and turned back to the bar dismissively, throwing back the rest of his glass of whiskey as he did. He kept his gaze on you from the corner of his socket, though, almost as though waiting for a rebuttal, and you weren’t about to disappoint. You didn’t flinch away from the judging, superior stare he gave you, didn’t bend under the weight of his rudeness.

You only firmed your jaw, and raised your head proudly.

“I didn’t mistake you for anyone, and I know _exactly_ what I’m getting into, thank you very much. If I wanted to be coddled, I’d have asked for Blueberry.”

The edge of his almost ever-present smirk pulled up at the corner, his sockets narrowing and his glass tapping down on the top of the bar. He turned slowly on his barstool, the too small chair creaking under his mass, and once it had come to a halt, he gave you another once over, slower and far more heated.

“that right…” he murmured after a moment of silent inspection, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a silent chuckle, and stood from his seat to practically tower over you. You didn’t move away, despite his clear attempt at intimidation, and his smile only widened further, bending at the waist to meet your eyes… to take your chin in his hand, the rough bone of his fingers stroking your cheeks.

“ya certainly play tha part, sweetcheeks. dunno if you’ll hold up once i gotcha under me, but that ain’t my business, is it? as ya say, you know what ya paid for… an’ i can’t deny, i got a thing fer strong women,” he practically purred, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip… then exhaled a gout of cigarette smoke straight into your face, leering when you shuttered your eyes and coughed in surprise.

His grip on your chin tightened, domineering and assertive, and held your watering gaze meaningfully, his fingers tracing down the curve of your chin to dance over your throat, an inch from gripping it fully in his palm. One of his claws grazed the tender flesh, and he let out a low growl at the flash of fear in your eye, quickly smothered as it was.

His free hand rose to slide into your hair, running the thick, silky tresses through his phalanges, before gripping it in his fist like a rein. He had complete control over your head now, and tilted it to the side slowly, until his fetid breath washed over the column of your now bared throat… his fangs, wetted with alcohol and his own gathering saliva (he was openly drooling, a drip falling to gather in the dip of your collarbone), pressing to your ear.

“tha strong ones are tha most fun ta break,” he breathed excitedly, his jaw parting to allow the tip of his tongue to traipse over your earlobe unfettered, and when you gasped quietly, unable to hold it in under the duress of his attentions, he lost what little hold he had on his control, his fingers closing around your throat completely and his fist gripping your hair so hard the roots stung.

His mouth pressed harder to the side of your face, his teeth biting at your earlobe until it bled, his breath a fume of liquor and lust.

“’s what i like ta hear, sugartits… but this’s only tha beginnin’. i’ll have ya screamin’ by night’s end, you can count on that,” he swore, licking up the blood he’d spilt in his zeal, and shook his hand free of your hair only to snap his fingers, teleporting the both of you into a cool, dark bedroom in the blink of an eye.

It was a mess, and smelled heavily of stale nicotine, booze, unwashed clothes, and sex, but you didn’t get much of a chance to look around yourself. The moment the wheels of your chair touched ground he was hoisting you out of it and into his more than able arms, and mounting the unmade bed in the center of the room the next, spitting the burnt down butt of his cigarette in the vague direction of his nightstand and, presumably, an ashtray as he did.

He set you down more gently than you’d expected of him, your head and shoulders against a mound of pillows he quickly shuffled into place, but that appeared to be the only concession he was intending to make for you. The next second, he was undressing you with both speed and indiscretion; from the various rips you heard as he did so, you were absolutely certain he had destroyed more than one article of your clothing as he tore them from your body and threw them to the floor.

You’d have been mad if he’d given you a spare moment to even consider the subject, but while he was undressing you, he was stroking the flesh he had just revealed with nigh on worshipful intrigue at the same time, and it was leaving you a bit of a state. So much so, in fact, that you had no complaints when he ran out of patience before he got both of your socks off, wrestling with the buckle of his belt and zipper of his shorts to release himself and crawl up the length of your reclined body, straddling your chest with obvious intent.

Fresh hadn’t been exaggerating in the size of some of the condoms he’d shown you earlier. Fell’s length was _monstrous_ , in more than one way, and a pit of dread opened in your belly at the sheer size of him as he stroked himself tip to base an inch from your nose, trying your best to imagine any way you were going to be able to take that and failing utterly. He appeared both amused and flattered by the look, but also looked totally unconcerned by it.

He pressed the head of his cock to your lips meaningfully, running his phalanges into your hair again, and smirked wickedly down at you, saliva wending down his jaw to drip onto his hurriedly rolled up sweater.

“we’ll get to tha real fun stuff soon, sweetheart, don'tcha worry… i’ll give ya just what ya came for an’ more. first though… you gotta show me you can really take it. so be a good girl for me an’ suck me off.”

The awakened magic in his socket sparked when you grinned back at him impishly, pushing a kiss to his tip teasingly before you parted your lips to do as you’d been bidden. He hadn’t had a toy as daring or brave as you since… well. For a good, long time, and if you let him, he was gonna put every last piece of your well-spent gold to work.

And dear god, did he.

* * *


	13. Heat Season Begins (Birdtale Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've agreed to help Sparrow with his heat this season.
> 
> Birdtale Sans

* * *

Anonymous said:

I’d like to participate in Heat Season with Sparrow, please? I have the Gs, and I’ll hand them over when I get here.

* * *

Heat season.

You trembled with excitement at just the thought, shouldering your bag and clutching your acceptance letter to your chest as you stepped through the portal that had appeared, as promised, the morning of the 12th. You'd been looking forward to this for weeks now (longer, if you were being totally honest with yourself), and as the formidable but inviting facade of the Banana Lounge rose from the swirling mist of the Void before you, the early autumn sun beaming gently down through a scattering of wind carried fall leaves, you let out a happy sigh.

Everything was prepared. Your bag was packed with two weeks worth of clothing and toiletries (not that you suspected you'd have much need for the clothes), your house readied for your long absence and your instructions followed to the letter. You'd even gone the extra mile, though the letter B had mailed to you hadn't required it, and showered with completely unscented soaps and shampoos.

She had mentioned that monsters in heat thoroughly enjoyed their partners smelling only of themselves, an instinctual thing while in their more bestial mindset, but that it wouldn't be difficult for them to overpower any artificial scents (pheromones were quite a force to be reckoned with, apparently), should you desire to wash as usual.

You wanted to be as thorough and pleasing as possible for Sparrow, and it was such a small thing to ask.

Giddy and biting at your lower lip, you walked across the quiet street, the scent of wood smoke and ripe apples on the breeze as it played gently with your hair, and let yourself into the lounge itself through one of the sets of doors, glancing idly about the unusually empty lobby (it was so odd to see it so bare its usual waiting queue) before walking to the reception desk. It, too, was unusually empty but for a number of manila envelopes laid out across its expansive surface; B was clearly still in quarantine, her side of the desk neat and dusted but long cold, but Fresh was conspicuously absent as well, nothing but a sign declaring _'heat season beeyotch'_ left behind to indicate where he had gone.

It was only natural for the bodacious, personable monster to have found someone to spend it with himself, you supposed, though it would have been nice to see him...

You shrugged, happy for him, and looked instead to the envelopes laid out before you. There had to be close to twenty of them, each neatly sealed and labeled with a name, written in careful, curly lettering that was clearly not Fresh's scrawlings. You spotted your name at the far end closest Fresh's side of the desk, and scooped the envelope up eagerly, opening it and peeking inside. There was another letter, on the same stationary as the letter B had sent you after receiving your application, and a brass key decorated with a feather keychain inside.

Pocketing your own letter and the key, you pulled the new letter from inside the envelope and read over it, smiling at B's enthusiastic welcome and her apologies for not being able to greet you personally. She went on to reiterate the details of the journey you were about to embark on, her overwhelming joy that you had decided to take part and help her boys with their heat, and her hope that you would enjoy the fruits of your and your chosen monster's labors. You were directed to leave your payment in the usual box (only 15,000g... half price then), and you did so gladly, chuckling at the delighted 'ping' it let out.

_'The key is to Sparrow's room, which you will find on the third floor, closest to the stairs to the roof. He likes the air currents, as I'm sure you know~'_ the letter finished, signed with B's flowing hand and a printed lipstick kiss (as cheesy as her lover was), and you tucked it away in your back pocket with the other, pulling out the key to inspect it curiously before, with a deep breath and an excited smile, you strode to the doors that led into the lounge itself, today propped open and tempting those invited in through the gossamer curtains hung over the doorway.

The main floor was eerily still and abandoned as well, your footsteps almost echoing across the large space as you walked towards the stairs that led to the upper floors. Pretty standard for a quarantine, you assumed, and mounted the stairs with a shrug and the impatient vigor of your fervor-

And were assaulted by the overpowering scent of male monsters in heat that had been just a hint on the air, on the first floor, a thick cloud of magic and desire and intoxication rolling over you like a wave. It weakened your knees in an instant even through your face mask, forcing you to grab onto the railing of the stairs to keep upright. You could feel your body reacting already, drawn by the powerful call of age-old instincts, by the pheromones of virile males ready to breed, and pressed a hand to your mouth and nose desperately, your eyelids fluttering and your abdomen clenching and your mind misting, thinking only of finding the nearest monster to sate your sudden lust.

No. You had to press on, to find the monster you'd come to see, and forced yourself to carry on, to press forward beyond the doorway that led to the second floor (it was much stronger there... you could hear them waiting in their rooms, you could feel the magic beckoning-), every ounce of your determination working to carry you to the third floor, to stagger against the door you  _knew_ , before you even tried the key, to be Sparrow's, to unlock the door and fall past it to the carpet beyond...

And to slam the door shut with your feet, gasping for air as the fog over your mind cleared, as the lust drenching the inside of your thighs cooled, as your body settled from the high of almost seventy different monsters' pheromones.

Had B mentioned that it would be that bad? You think she might have, in her initial letter, but you couldn't be sure, not in your current state. It was better, inside the room, the rug thick and cool after the heat that had run rampant in your veins, but it was still present, the magic thick in the air and-

“well that was dramatic. you okay?”

You jolted at the suddenness of the voice from above you, a warm laugh on its dulcet tones, and opened your eyes to gaze blearily up into a familiar face, his smile wry but quirked in concern, his lit sockets flicking both curiously and worriedly over your reclined form. You chuckled sheepishly, scratching your head and sitting up as you affirmed your well being, and turned on his carpet to face him fully, doing your level best not to stare but failing utterly.

Sparrow had been crouched over your fallen form, balanced with ease on his taloned toes with his arms thrown almost lazily on the tops of his bent knees. His smile, now absent its worry, was curling upwards across his face in a knowing, teasing lilt, one brow bone raised over a glowing socket. He was missing his goggles, set on a nightstand, and his heavy, darkly furred jacket, thrown over the back of a chair beside his closet, wearing a sleeveless, simple tee in its absence. His trademark wings, feathered with midnight black as dark and shiny as an oil slick, were folded carefully and neatly against his back, and his tail flicked against the carpet, as though to help him keep his balance.

He'd have looked almost normal, if it weren't for the beads of dark blue sweat standing out against his skull and bared upper arms, if it weren't for the quick sharpness in his gaze, raking your form with an almost physical caress. A trail of magical saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth as he raised his head and clearly scented the air, and as he wiped it away on the back of his hand, his smile curled further, a hunger that spoke of twisted sheets and bodies tied in a lover's union echoing in his intense sockets.

He certainly struck a handsome figure, one that had both haunted and graced your dreams many times, made only more attractive by the pheromones exuding from him. They were uniquely him now, though, rather than an amalgam of the rest of the monsters, spiced with the scent of sun-warmed skies and feathers and the gold he loved so dearly, intermingled with the powerful scent of magic and male desire and sex. You flushed as it washed over you, sinking into your skin and singing in your blood, and he didn't even pretend not to notice, smirking only more broadly.

“heh... falling all over yourself just to get here then. eagerness is always appreciated~”

You spluttered, your blush deepening and your want pumping heavy through your veins (it wasn't like it wasn't true after all), but quieted at his burst of laughter, his skull shaking side to side and his sockets wrinkling in his mirth. He stood with a grace that would have made you jealous if your eyes weren't made immediately level with the crotch of his shorts, the magic already congregated there pressing against the material and drying your mouth so quickly you had to swallow.

You were sure you'd have sat staring for an eternity if his hand hadn't obscured your vision, held out to assist you up from the ground, and in an effort to maintain whatever dignity you had left (you weren't sure there was all that much, honestly... just seeing the evidence of his arousal, in conjunction to the strength of his magic in the air, had nearly had you soaking a spot into his carpet through your pants), you took it and allowed him to pull you up, busily dusting off your knees afterwards to attempt to calm your flushed cheeks.

He watched with an all too knowing smile, chuckling again under his breath, and walked behind you to, with a finality that sent a thrill through your blood, lock his door again.

“i'm kidding, chickadee. i know what it's like out there. this many male monsters cooped up in one place to ride out the heat, many of us dominants... the magic is a little out of control. almost reminds me of the underground during heat season.”

You frowned at his words as you looked over his room (as avid a collector of shiny things as ever), saddened by the reminder of how his people were sequestered away from their beloved skies, and queried, quiet and tremulous, if he was handling it alright. He let out a quiet snort, from beside his door and behind your back, and surprised you a moment later by sliding the straps of your backpack from your shoulders, placing it on the ground beside a tall dresser.

He pressed himself to your back a moment later, wrapping his arms around your middle and setting his chin on your shoulder, and hugged you gently, squeezing you in his arms and rubbing the side of his skull against yours affectionately. Your frown left you in an instant, a sappy, exultant smile stretching across your face as you raised your hands to touch him as well, laid over his arms and stroking his jaw (he was so warm... it was only day one and his heat was already so strong), and the moment was almost sweet and tender enough for you to be able to ignore the now kind of intense scent of him, filling your head and making you woozy... that and the curve of his thick, hard erection, pressed firmly against your backside.

Almost.

His chest rumbled at your reciprocation, rocking you both in place and tilting his head to press his face to your throat (you could feel his breath against your skin, a few degrees hotter than his bones burned), a smile pressed to your flesh in a lingering kiss.

“it's real sweet of you to worry, but it's fine. i can smell the air from here... i can see the sky outside my window. i'm alright. and besides... i knew you were coming to be with me. don't usually keep meaningful company for the heat... never gotten the chance to breed. 's different... with monsters...”

His murmur of reassurance was quiet and sincere and warm as his touch, as the press of his bony lips in repeated ardor to the length of your throat, traveling up to your jaw, to the lobe of your ear; his nasal ridge pressed into you as he moved, breathing you in just as his hands wandered the slope of your waist, the expanse of your abdomen, the curve of your ribs, exploring and pulling at your clothes halteringly, as though attempting to keep himself from pulling them off.

You felt him inhale against your hair, as he pushed a kiss just below your ear, a shudder of stimulation flooding your body at the lingering touch... as the hardness pressed to your backside twitched.

“stars and feathers, you smell so _good_.”

His exclamation was verging on a moan, echoed by the swipe of a searing hot tongue to the shell of your ear and a shallow, needy grind of his hips against your rear, pressing his arousal into you harder for a bare moment. You gasped, your fingers jumping to the vertebrae of his neck, clinging to one of his wrists as a hand ventured close to your chest, and you felt him stiffen, felt his breath still against your throat, before he pulled away entirely.

You protested, whining in your mounting need and grasping at his fleeing hands to make him stay, to make him keep touching you, but he didn't mean to leave you alone, and rounded your form to press a quelling, hard kiss to your parted lips, passionate and heated, before pulling away, sending you a wink (he was just as flushed as you felt, a scattering of navy blue magic across his cheekbones), and taking your hand in his, to pull you to his bed.

It was a four-poster, the posts draped with gauzy blue and white silks that reminded you of a sunlit sky, and blanketed with... well, it was difficult to describe. In the center of the king sized bed was a large mound of pillows, blankets, cushions, and coverlets, but it didn't appear to be randomly thrown together, or an unintended mess... it actually looked like it had been put together with solemn and convoluted gravity, the implements woven and braided together with an exactness and intricacy that put modern art to shame. In the center of it all was a rather spacey indent, lined purposefully with pillows.

You cocked a brow, unsure, and sent Sparrow a glance from the corner of your eye; he looked proud and almost giddy at the sight, reaching out his free hand to fussily prod a blanket into a position likable to him.

“it's a nest. i made it for us, for us to pass the heat. 'm sure it's weird for humans, i know your people don't do this, but it's pretty standard for us. we all handle the heat differently, have different needs and cravings and instincts, but monsters from my universe... yeah. nests are the way to go. and this is a good one... only the best for you.”

He admired it another moment, practically glowing with pride, before glancing back to you with a crooked smile and a stricken, amorous glow to his gaze. He squeezed your hand, stroking the back with his thumb.

“it'll keep you safe, if i need to leave you for anything. keep you warm and secure against the nights... keep you close while we rest. plenty soft, so you're comfortable while we mate...”

His explanation was both fond and quick, the proximity to his carefully constructed nest obviously exciting him; the magical chemicals in the air thickened, bearing witness to his growing lust, and his wings flexed unconsciously as he spoke of mating with you, magnificent as they caught the light filtering through his window. He was a sight to behold, through the filter of your own desire and the haze of the heat burning in his bones, and when he pulled meaningfully at your hand, to draw you to him again, you stumbled to press yourself to him, to stand on tiptoe and kiss him just as hard and as passionately as he had you, only a moment before.

He clung to you, allowing your arms to encircle his neck just as he clasped at your back, at the swell of your hip and the fullness of your backside and the length of your thigh as you raised it to prop on the curve of his pelvis. His tongue slithered from between his teeth to meet yours when you begged for it wordlessly, his hips circled to rub the fullness of his erection between your thighs. You whimpered against his mouth, when he sat on the edge of his mattress to press you against him fully, pulling you into his lap and thrusting against you just as urgently as you rutted against him.

It was overwhelming, the taste of him and the feel of him and the scent of him, sinking further into your flesh and your blood the longer and harder you leaned into him and the temptation he offered. He shuddered when you ran your fingers through his feathers, you moaned when his hand moved beneath your shirt to touch the bare flesh of your chest, but he only pulled away, breathing as heavily as you were, when you pulled your shirt off entirely and threw it to the ground. He was obviously struggling to resist leaning back into you immediately, the soft ovals of light floating in his sockets fuzzy and unfocused and his hands trembling as he leaned back on them, but he turned his head away when you tried to reconnect your mouths, clearly set on saying something.

“just... just one... wait. before i can't think at all anymore.”

You obliged as patiently as you were able to, sitting back to watch him from your seat in his lap (it was very, very difficult to sit still with his arousal pressing, hard and throbbing, directly against you), and he took a moment to compose himself, swallowing hard against the saliva dripping from his jaw, before he looked back at you, fiercely avoiding looking down at your bare chest as he did.

“b said i didn't need to, that you'd been informed of everything already, that you'd volunteered... but i have to be sure. you know what you signed up for, right? being here with me like this, right now. you know that if you let me nest with you... i fully intend to breed you. right?”

He looked just as nervous as he did turned on, shaking in his mounting lust but resolute to ascertain that he wasn't about to do anything against your will, and you smiled, touched and grateful that he'd been so worried, as you assured him of your knowledge of the endpoint, as you told him of your preparations and your own excitement for it. His relief was instant and immense, his skull falling forward to lean against your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his back lovingly, and he sighed, nuzzling his face into your bare flesh.

“sorry, dove... i'd kinda assumed b was a special case, when it came to humans. she'd never really been shy about it, but most of the other humans that've come to me... it's just been a fun fantasy.”

You flushed as you thought of your long desire for it, humming in understanding even as your excitement grew again, and gasped, haggard and raw, as you felt his tongue caress your skin, tracing a searing trail down to slather over a nipple. His hands groped again at your body, digging into your hips to grind you down into his erection  _hard_ , and the breath of a laugh, dark and portentous, washed over your skin.

He teased you until you writhed in his lap, until you begged for him, until you were so wet you had soaked through both your pants and his shorts, before he gave you mercy, before he undressed you and kissed you until your lips bruised and laid you in the center of the nest he had made just for you. It was just as soft as he'd promised, luxurious to the point of sin, and some instinct deep within you, likely awakened by the overpowering influence of the heat your partner exuded, stretched and purred with excitement as he tucked a pillow securely beneath your hips, raising and spreading you for him.

He tasted you indulgently, stroking his length as he brought you to riotous orgasm, before he crawled over you, sinking into you with a single, smooth stroke that had you wailing and clutching him even before his hips had fully rested against yours. He kissed you deeply, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. His wings spread as he bottomed out inside you, lost to bliss, and the light from his window broke through his feathers like stars in darkest night.

“you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this. no... idea.”

* * *


	14. A Dog's Day (Fellswap Papyrus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutt can handle your baggage anytime.
> 
> *Fellswap Papyrus*

* * *

omega-queen-collects-lipstick said:

Not sure where to put the heat season thing. But I'd like to request beastales sans. If not then stretch. I'd go for mutt but I have a lot of baggage from when I was with my universes mutt. Unless of course he's into that. If he doesn't mind me taking my heat and baggage then I'm all for it. Lot of never resolved emotions. Might translate into sexual vilence. So....

* * *

' _hey._

_b let me read your request, to see if i'd be interested in taking on a little baggage. gotta tell ya, sweetness, baggage is a bit of a specialty of mine. maybe i was a bellboy in another life... who knows. as for sexual violence... i've always been a bit of a masochist. but you already know that, don't you._

_satisfy to say, i'll be waiting for ya, yeah? to handle that baggage, and any other packages you might decide to bring along._

_'russ_

You swallowed nervously, reading the note for the 57th time since you'd received it as you walked up the sidewalk before the lounge, your bag heavy on your back and your every step just as weighted. It had come in the same envelope as B's acceptance letter had, wrinkly and stained and smelling slightly of nicotine, and you'd known his handwriting even before you'd read what he'd written.

Your mind had wanted to deny it, the possibility that another version of your ex was willing to step up and take on the indignation and hurt that still lived within you (something he had never been willing to do himself... selfish prick), but there was no way you could deny it any longer, not with the cool air of the lounge's lobby washing over your flushed face... not with him sitting there in one of the comfortable waiting chairs, long legs propped up on a coffee table and cigarette burning bright between his fangs.

He looked the same as he always did in your memories, that fur lined leather jacket, the spiked collar, the cracks in his bones and the smug, quiet mirth burning in his sockets and quirking his gold lined mouth... claws picking at a rip in his tight jeans, boots untied and crossed at the ankle. You'd seen him in heat before, so the rust orange droplets of sweat trailing down the curve of his skull and the slopes of his vertebrae were no surprise, but his eagerness in standing and coming to you certainly were.

Your Mutt had never welcomed you, in his heats. He'd always pushed you away, coarse and dismissive, and you had to admit it had always stung a bit. Not even good enough to use when he needed it most.

But here he was, rounding the enclosure of chairs to slump over to your side, cigarette discarded in the pot of one of Casanova's carefully tended plants, smile broad and lustful and slicked with saliva, so familiar but so foreign at once. He didn't even let you speak, when he came to your side, immediately bending and crushing his mouth to yours in a devastating, knee weakening, deep kiss, his clawed hand sinking into your hair and clutching at the curve of your waist to hold you to him, his bones searing with his heat. His breath was sweet with tobacco and sugar and mint (he'd actually brushed his teeth for you... trying to impress? It was working), his tongue hot and insistent as it parted your lips to taste you, and when he pulled back, bent over you and smirking and caressing the stripe of skin his clutching had revealed along your midsection, it was all you could do to catch your breath.

Not that gasping for air was helping much... this near, you could feel the magic of his heat exuding from him in choking waves, smoky and thick and alluring as the wanton glitter of his narrowed, piercing gaze (you knew that look, you knew what it meant and what he wanted), and your body reacted without question. You'd always been weak for him, since the very first moment, but this... this was a different sort of weakness, one that you had no say in this time.

Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all...

He didn't appear too interested in your mental vacillations, not unusual but probably expected, considering the heat running rampant in him, and bent to kiss you again, pressed more gently to your still parted lips. His entire body was rumbling, his bones rattling quietly and the chain on his collar jingling (was... was he _purring_?), and his hands were bold, the one wound into your hair leaving it to join the other caressing the bared skin of your waist.

This kiss felt softer, less driven and heated, and when he pulled back this time, he pressed his forehead against yours to look into your eyes, panting quietly and smirking gently.

“'bout time you showed up. was starting to think you'd chickened out.”

You puffed up at his chortle of laughter, deeper than his usual tenor but just as teasing as the hand smoothing over the slope of your backside, and he only laughed harder when you smacked his arm for it, sending you a lazy wink and giving his newly acquired handful of ass a squeeze. You blushed furiously, retorting that nothing could have stopped you from fulfilling your promise to be there, and his chuckles quieted, his smile less teasing and more appreciative.

“which i'm grateful for, believe me. always glad for the company... especially from pretty little humans determined to have their way with me.”

You blushed deeper, flustered and shy and unused to the bald faced blatancy of his desire (you were out of practice, it had been too long since you'd been with him for you to be able to bounce back from his easy flirtations), and the taunting grin was back again, his sockets burning with a heat that was starting to sear, both of his hands now cupping your rear in their palms unabashedly.

His forehead left yours, his mouth pressing to the corner of your lips, to your jawline, and on, kissing and licking its way to the dip of your shoulder. He nipped you there, making you jump and squeal, watching you watch him back with a knowing looking on his cracked but unfairly handsome face.

It was so familiar, too familiar, you knew the bite of his fangs and the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands, you knew his taste and his scent and his kiss and the texture of his bones, you knew them so well, and you wanted to cry the same as you wanted to hit him in the face. Your heart ached, your hands shook on his broad shoulders, your skin flushed with the heat of him and the lust he was breeding in you just by being so near-

“i know i'm a looker, but there's no need to stare... unless you're already imagining how my face'll look between your legs~ don't worry, i won't make you wait long for it.”

You jumped, unaware that you had been staring (probably glaring, even, considering the path your thoughts had been taking), and mumbled an apology, quickly explaining yourself and the short answer for why you'd been mad dogging him, but he didn't look bothered by it, shrugging and pressing a last kiss to the bruise he had been working into your shoulder through his licking and biting and sucking.

“ha... i know it isn't me, cutie. i'm just messin' around. you blush real nice, it's hard to resist.”

You didn't feel very comforted by his knowledge of your reasoning, only feeling more embarrassed to be doing this to him at all (it couldn't feel good to know your partner wasn't even really seeing you, that they were thinking of someone else... why were you doing this...), but you apparently weren't nearly ashamed enough to stop, not when he kissed you again, not when one of the hands on your backside rounded your front to rub tantalizingly between your thighs... not when he picked you up off the ground entirely, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his shoulders to settle you close.

His already manifested arousal pressed against you perfectly like this, so hard you could feel his piercings through his jeans, and he spent a moment indulging himself in you, trading breath and groping at your ass and thrusting against you shallowly, before he pulled back, cocked a single brow, and bounced you in his grasp, indicating the sway of your backpack and the ease with which he had hefted you into his arms.

“this all the baggage you brought? and you thought i couldn't handle it~”

He had started walking at some point as well, snatching up an envelope with your name on it from the front desk and carrying you out onto the lounge floor, clearly making his way to the stairs to the upper floors. You let out a humorless laugh as he started to mount them, hiding your shame behind the fall of your hair as you opened the package he had handed you (a letter from B welcoming you, along with a brass key attached to what appeared to be a ball gag).

You knew he was just joking again, you could hear the lilt of humor in his voice, but you couldn't seem to bring yourself to laugh, or let on yourself at all. You only clutched at the key you'd been given, your face and shoulders low, and apologized to him quietly, for using him like this. It didn't feel right, it felt scummy and you knew he was only going through with it so he would have someone to help him with his heat... and were surprised when he snorted out loud, his boots echoing around the stairwell as he climbed.

“stuff your sorries in a sack, sweetness. i'm not heartless, even if i don't have one, heh... doesn't take a genius to tell you're pretty broken up about whatever happened.”

You stuttered to a halt in your abashed shame, sniffling at the tears you had started to shed, and looked up at him as he gained the landing of the stairs and let himself into a long, wide hallway, studded with shut doors and lined with extremely lewd, graphic pictures of monsters locked in coitus with humans. The hall was rife with the scent and magic of the other monsters in the lounge, their heats just as pervasive and strong as the one you were being carried by, but his presence seemed to be some sort of barrier against them, preventing the allure from sinking in.

You had little mind to pay to the others, though, the occasional creaking of mattress springs or feminine moans as you were carried past door after door, your attention on the one that had brought you out of your languishing. You blinked at the tears on your lashes, watching yourself in the reflection of one of his golden fangs, and wondered aloud... why. Why he would waste the time on you when you... you were just using him to get over what had happened.

He only let out a quiet chuff of laughter, shaking his head, and glanced down at you from the corner of one socket.

“i wouldn't've told b i wanted to do it if i just wanted some company. i wanted to help. never get to do much of that at home... it's everyone for themselves there. seemed like a nice thing to do, something only i could. and if a hatefuck's what you need to get over your ex... if you need to take it it out on me so you can move on... you go right ahead. don't worry about me, i'm a pretty tough guy. i can take a beating~”

You nodded, blushing and clenching your lips together around your relieved and giddy smile. Your guilt had melted away almost entirely with his explanation, a fondness for him blossoming in your chest as he shouldered open a poster studded door at the end of the hallway (looked like you wouldn't be needing the key...), and you arched up to kiss him before he could move to again. He smiled against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it with a snap of his fingers, and turned to push you against it for a moment long enough to forget your own name, much less any remaining qualms you had, drowning in the taste of him and the roll of his hips against the apex of your thighs.

In time, though, your bag started to become very uncomfortable between you and the door, and your overabundance of clothes too much for your overheated body, and with a quiet command to be let down, Mutt set you on the floor obediently, letting you see his room for the first time as he strode eagerly to his messy bed, shedding his clothes and kicking off his boots as he went. He clearly had no modesty, far too excited by the prospect of joining with you, and so you didn't bother to have any either, shucking your bag to the floor so you could take off your own clothes, looking around the room as you did.

It was dim, lacking a window to shed extra light from the afternoon sun outside (he must be in a bedroom on the inside of the building...) and lit only with the lamp set on his cluttered desk, but the room seemed to be larger than the others to make up for it. He had filled it up mostly with bookshelves, it seemed, crammed against the walls and set with fairly neat rows of novels, though a large section of the floor was devoted to an overlarge bed, clearly necessary for his height.

In one corner of the room, stacked neatly around a little black mini-fridge and microwave combo, was a mound of snack foods and prepackaged meals, ranging from ramen to soup to snack cakes to candy. You raised your brows at it, turning to face him inquisitively (he had already finished undressing and was sitting on the edge of his bed watching you, palming the length of himself and licking his fangs), and he sent the pile a glance before smirking lazily.

“heh... don't mind that. it's just food for us, so we won't have to leave. 'm a bit of a hoarder, for my heats.”

You made a sound of realization, familiar with monsters' needs for their mating seasons, and did your best to wrestle your shirt off while attempting to watch him stroke his cock at the same time, and nearly tripped over your bag while you did. You both laughed at it, though his chuckle sounded more like a temptation than amusement, here in the dark heat of his room, and you gave up entirely on your socks, sure you'd fall trying to get them off.

If you remembered right, he liked socks anyway.

You dragged your bag over to the bed, nervousness rearing its head in your gut at the remembrance of all the things you'd brought (he'd said he was willing to submit to you, but you weren't sure if he'd meant that... literally), and dallied only a moment, his hands reaching out to stroke your bared skin approvingly, before asking how he saw this going down... if he wanted it any particular way. You didn't mean to be coy, but there was a shyness in you that wouldn't seem to budge.

He only smirked, sending a curious, interested glance down to your bag, before answering.

“i honestly don't care. as long as i get to feel you sometime in the next... say, five minutes, i'm down for anything.”

His reply was a sultry purr, drawing you in and fogging your mind with the powerful haze of his want for you, and you gulped as he pulled you between his spread legs, pressing his fanged mouth to your throat... the pierced underside of his erection to your belly, thicker than usual in his heat. His breath was a furnace, against your flesh, his hands squeezing your curves rapturously.

“i don't think i can last much longer than that, if you catch my drift...”

You caught it entirely.

* * *


	15. Dust to Dust (Dusttale Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last thing you'd expect from a monster like him.
> 
> *Dusttale Sans*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy am I taking a long time to post these or what ^^; sorryyyyyyy

[themsource](http://themsource.tumblr.com/) said:

* * *

Officially applying for heat season with Dusty //Masochistic Grin//

* * *

“well well well. so you actually came.”

You shouldn't have been surprised to hear his voice hissing from the shadows at the bottom of the stairs you had just descended, the unstable light of his mismatched sockets shining scarlet and cerulean from the darkness (of course he'd be waiting, you knew what he was like), but you were, jumping nervously and almost breaking your ankle by missing the bottom step.

The stairs had been a nightmare to find and descend, after you'd come into the lounge and found the envelope B had left for you on the front counter (you'd signed the release form included with the letter, looking curiously at the key at the bottom). The instructions had led you first to a broom closet, at the rear of the dangerous monsters' personal lounge, then to Nightmare's room, which you were thrown out of unceremoniously by his servant, but at last you'd found the unfortunately dark staircase, leading down to the basement of the lounge.

You hadn't even known there was a basement before today, but here it was, a large, round room studded around it's walls with doors in various forms of disrepair (one was covered in slime, another deep claw marks, and one seemed to be missing entirely), its floor covered with sex machines of all sorts, ranging from medieval looking to technological marvels you couldn't begin to imagine the purpose of.

You were almost immediately distracted by the thickness of the air down here, the pervasive musk of numerous, powerful male monsters in heat assaulting your senses and weakening your knees, your breath shortening and your body responding to the strong magicks. You'd never been so turned on in your life, swallowing against the wash of saliva that had flooded your mouth, digging your hands into the straps of your backpack to keep them from touching at your own skin.

You didn't have long to consider the machines or the air quality, though, that or the other monsters roaming the basement (you could see the fierce creatures roaming among the machines restlessly, and every single one of them had turned to look at you the moment you'd appeared, their sockets fiercely, savagely hungry), before Dust stepped in front of you and seized your wrist in one hand, jerking you away from the stairs and towards one of the doors hurriedly. He snarled warningly at Error when he attempted to draw closer to you, clenching your arm so hard you were certain it was going to bruise, and threw you towards the second door from the stairwell, the one that looked like it had had at least twenty knives thrown at it.

“get in. i don't want these jerkoffs looking at you anymore.”

You obeyed quickly, fumbling with the knob for a moment before remembering the key in your envelope and using it to unlock the door, and scurried inside the moment it was open, propelled more quickly by Dust's hand shoving at the small of your back (he had stood over you almost protectively while you'd scrambled with the knob, growling so deep and low that your whole body had shaken). He slammed the door shut behind you both, jamming a nearby, probably stolen dining chair under the handle and locking the six progressively higher deadbolts along its surface, before he even turned to look at you, shoulders heaving and jaw parted.

The air was more bearable here, only his pheromones filling the air of the dark, absolutely trashed bedroom (it appeared he didn't care much for organization at all, clothes and trash and stains everywhere you looked), but your desire didn't lessen even an iota for it. His own want radiated from him in waves, like standing in front of an oven with the door hanging wide open, and as he approached through the semi-darkness, his sockets locked on you unerringly, his feet completely silent as he hunted you, you felt yourself move towards him, your pack falling to the ground unacknowledged.

His smirk was sharp, sharp as the collection of knives stabbed into just about every surface he had available besides the wreckage of a bed shoved into one corner (it looked like the supporting beams had broken at some point, dumping the mattress onto the floor, but was mounded with so many blankets and pillows that it didn't seem to matter), and when you stopped before him, whimpering under your breath and doing your best to keep from trying to leap into his arms, he leaned into you and pressed his face to your throat. His bones were so hot it hurt to touch, and were dappled with sweat, his heat incredibly intense, but you dared not move, dared not displease him.

He breathed you in rapturously, one of his hands fisting in the front of your shirt to keep you still (you didn't think you could have moved if you'd wanted to, your legs were going to collapse if you did anything more than breathe), his jaw parting further to allow his long, tapering blue tongue to slather along the flesh there, his breath humid and heavy... his teeth sinking in to draw blood.

You cried out at the bite, shuttering your lids and feeling yourself fall even deeper into your lust at the rush of pain. He hadn't bitten deep, seeming to want only to taste your blood, and soothed you with a shaking, searing hot hand stroked down your spine, his tongue lapping up every drop you'd shed. He shuddered at the taste, chuckling quietly to himself at an unspoken joke, before he leaned back to look at you.

There was a smear of blood on his lower jaw, a single drop falling to stain his already stained shirt, but he seemed to either not notice or not care, shaking his hand free of your shirt to take your chin instead. He turned your head this way and that, as though inspecting a piece of livestock, and you could only stand there and let him, more and more overwhelmed by the desire filling your helpless body, liquid lust coating the inside of your thighs as you trembled under his inspection and the duress of his magic.

After a long moment, so long you were certain you were going to just combust from how hot your body was, under his touch and his attention, he looked away from your body and to your eyes, the hand on your chin slipping around the back of your neck to jerk you closer, to push your body against his. You gasped, quiet and sudden, at the contact, at your close proximity to him (he was burning you even through both of your shirts, it was so much, and yet not enough...) and the bulge in his short, and he barked out a laugh, the hand that had been petting your back lowering to dig its phalanges into your backside.

He squeezed until you squirmed against him, gleeful in his malicious lust, and smacked the sore cheek for good measure.

“heh... you're a pretty one, aren't you... so brave, coming to me and my humble abode, but obedient enough to submit readily... so attuned to my magic that you're wetting a spot on the carpet already... and a masochist, too. you weren't even lying, i smelled you getting hot when i bit you. what a good little slut...”

Dust's lecherous compliments came out in a murmur, so low that if you weren't pressed against him, you wouldn't have heard him, but you had no chance to respond; the moment you opened your mouth he had crushed his bony lips to yours and shoved his tongue halfway down your throat, a violent facsimile of a passionate kiss. He thrust against you as he did, kicking your feet apart so he could fit the thick hardness of himself between your tights to assault your clothed entrance, slotting his free hand into your hair to jerk at it painfully.

You whimpered into his mouth, finally daring to touch him as you clutched his arms to keep your balance, stroking the thickness of his tongue with yours as he attempted to choke you with it and closing your thighs around his erection to provide him more friction. He grunted animalistically in response, clearly pleased by your efforts, and spent another moment fucking your thighs before slurping his tongue back into his mouth, sneering at you wickedly while you gasped for breath.

“just the kind of thing i look for in my breeding bitches.”

He was dragging you to his bed by the hair the very next moment, kicking aside your backpack, his wadded up clothes, and bits of discarded trash as he went. You stumbled along in his wake, crying out in pain and clutching at his wrist to try to ease the pressure, but his grip was solid and purposefully tight, his grin malicious and vile. Once he'd marched you across his room, he threw you against the side of his bed, snapping his fingers mutely at your clothes, and you stared for a moment, lost and whimpering through your reactive tears, before you realized he wanted you to strip.

You obeyed shakily, regaining your feet to shuck off your shirt, and he watched hungrily, biting his lower lip line and crossing his arms while he waited. You couldn't seem to keep your eyes from wandering to the crotch of his shorts, while you hurriedly undressed yourself for him, and he more than noticed, smirking broadly and, while you fought with your pants, lowering the front of his shorts to allow his erection to fall free, stroking his hand along its length while he watched you.

“you wouldn't think it of me, would you?”

His voice permeated the still, thick air while you were shedding your underwear, stilling you in your motion, and you blinked at him mutely, unsure of his meaning. He tsked under his breath, releasing his grip on his arousal, and stepped up to you to push your shoulders and tip you backwards onto the bed. You fell onto the large mound of pillows and blankets, looking up at him warily, but he seemed supremely unconcerned with your feelings about his actions, grasping at your legs to pull them off the ground and pulling your underwear off himself.

He held your gaze while he sniffed them, his smile sinister and lustful, and above your abdomen, still bared by his lowered shorts, his cock twitched, dripping a strand of precum across your skin.

“that i'd like knocking humans up. went and got myself a reputation for murder... and it's fair, too.”

He discarded your underwear uncaringly, likely lost forever to the mess on his floor, and shoved your legs apart unceremoniously, thrusting a hand between them and feeling for your wet entrance. He dragged the other along your body, groping hard at your chest and raking his claws over your belly until you writhed and cried out for him. He was clearly pleased by this, his grin drunken and his fingers more gentle when they found your core and slipped inside you, listening as the sounds you made changed from pain to pleasure almost seamlessly.

“there's just something so beautiful about watching you worthless little whores bleed out after seven straight hours of fucking... listening to you spend your last breath choking on my dick... seeing the life drain from your eyes at the same time as you cum... and its so easy to do, isn't it? ...yeah, i agree. she would look good in blue.”

You trembled, unsure and worried and curious at his words, and asked him, cautiously, what he meant, and he looked down at you as though he'd forgotten you were there, his fingers inside you stilling and his smile falling into a frown. He looked confused for a moment, lost and blank, before his brow hardened, his hand withdrawing from between your thighs with a wet slurp.

“not talking to you, slut. raise your hips.”

You were just as confused as he had looked only a moment before, shaking against his sheets and breathing heavily, but did as you were told, scooting to the very edge of the bed and rolling your hips upwards, completely exposing yourself to him. You blushed as you felt his gaze drag over you, clinical and sharp and judging, and let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding when his smile grew across his face again, his thumbs lowering to spread your folds apart even further.

“yeah... heh... just a bunch of thirsty little whores, willing to die for a good fuck. heh heh... you're different than them, though, aren't you? _you're_ the right kind.” 

You'd have asked him what the 'right kind' was if he hadn't immediately bent and thrust his tongue into your entrance, cutting off the start of your query with a loud, carrying squeal of surprise and pleasure. You fell back onto the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling his inhumanly long tongue sink further and further into you with feeble, intoxicated awe, and would have locked your legs around his neck if he hadn't grabbed them and pushed them all the way down to the bed.

He spent what must have been half an hour like that, plunging his unbearably long, tapered tongue in and out of you rapturously, bringing you to abdomen cramping orgasm over and over and over; you truly didn't know how long it was, lost to the pleasure you hadn't expected to get from him, and whined weakly when he finally leaned away from your soaking, swollen folds, inspecting his work approvingly. You were so wet your juices had dripped to the floor...

Perfect.

“when the right kind come looking for me, i just can't help but wanna fuck a baby monster into 'em. ruin them entirely, tarnish that light and that hope, make sure i'm imprinted in their heads for good.”

He glanced up at you, smiling around his pants for breath as he wiped your juices from his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“that's what you're gonna be, once i'm done with you.”

With a movement so fast you were sure he had teleported the both of you, he hauled you into his arms, mounted the bed, and dropped you into the middle of the mound of pillows and blankets in the center of his mattress, crawling over you to kneel over your chest the moment you'd settled. He grasped your face between his hands, pulling up until your neck ached, and bent to press his forehead to yours, staring unsettlingly into your eyes with a level of obsession that immediately chilled you to the bone.

“in two weeks, you're gonna walk out of here, back into the light, bred like a bitch and growing my spawn in you. you're gonna have my baby... and you're never gonna forget me. every time you look at it you'll remember me, all the things i did to you... how humiliating and terrifying it was... how much you enjoyed getting knocked up by a twisted, hideous creature like me.”

His fingers dug into the sides of your head, his hands shaking and his obsessive smile falling from his face.

“you'll remember, even though i'll forget. ...just like everything else.”

You were frightened by how tightly he was holding you, by the blankness that threatened his gaze again, but above it all, you were saddened. He wouldn't even remember you after this, you or his baby. How many children had he had in an effort to be remembered? Behind the madness, was he just scared of being forgotten, in the way he always forgot?

You whispered your sorrow for him, reaching out to touch his face, but the moment he saw it approaching, heard your words, he snarled beneath his breath, a quiet rage overtaking his momentary softness, and took your wrists in his hands to slam them down beside your head. He growled at you furiously, saliva flecking your face as he did, and you cringed back, absolutely certain this would be your death.

He made no move to hurt you, though, only sneering, releasing your hands, and scooting down your body to throw your legs around his hips, rubbing the head of his erection through the mixed wetness of your juices and his saliva.

“i didn't ask for your pity. i don't want it or need it. all i need is _this_.”

He slid into you with a single, brutally hard thrust, his pelvis slamming against your ass as he bottomed out, and you wailed, eternally grateful for the wetness that prevented him from tearing you apart. It still hurt, you could feel his thickness spreading you wider than you ever had been, and he seemed to glory in the tightness of you around him for a moment, throwing his head back and hissing with pleasure. He twitched, inside, hot and hard and wanting, and slicked his tongue across his exposed teeth, glancing back down at you as he began to roll his hips.

“now unless i tell you to open it, you keep that whore mouth shut... or i'll shut it for you.”

* * *


	16. Supernova (Outertale Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova is a usually restrained and reserved monster.
> 
> Not in his heat, though.
> 
> *Outertale Sans*

* * *

rainbowut said:

oo, I see heat session is coming closer and closer! I want to join in on this with Nova ^^ Do I have to pay for this as well like last time or?

* * *

_ Dearest patron, _

_ I wanted first to welcome you to the Banana Lounge for our Heat Season, though I do hope you'll forgive us for not being able to welcome you in person. Sans is still insisting I stay off the floor until we reopen officially in a few weeks, troublesome as it may be, and Fresh is keeping me company while the season is in effect, as Sans was needed elsewhere. In my and Fresh's absence, I hope this letter will be greetings enough, thanks enough for giving yourself so freely to one of our monsters in their hour of need, and that you'll enjoy your stay with us and with your chosen mate. _

_ A few notes on Nova, who you will be meeting in a few moments. He is generally very even tempered, as you're aware, but he gets a little more... intense, during his heats. He won't hurt you, but he is very driven and very protective. You'll see what I mean soon enough. If it's too much for you, please don't be afraid to say so; I've already spoken with him and he's promised that he'll tone it down or back off entirely, whichever the case demands. _

_ You may leave your payment in the usual box on my desk (15,000 gold for your two week stay; a little hefty for most occasions, I am aware, but I assure you that you'll get your bang for your buck, ha!). Any other questions you may have, Nova himself can answer. I have included in this envelope a key to his room, which you can find on the third floor beside the greenhouse, but I doubt it will be necessary. He'll likely be waiting when you arrive. _

_ Have a good time, dear. Nova is sure to make your stay one to remember. _

_ Yours in sincerity and gratitude, _

_ B~ _

Huh.

You jutted your jaw to the side as you finished the letter B had left for you at her desk, ticking a finger against the side of the thick stationery quizzically. It was fine, of course, for B and Fresh to be away (it almost sounded like she was spending the heat with Fresh, which was odd considering how upset he'd been by the idea only a few weeks ago), but you would have liked a little more explanation when it came to your beau.

What did she mean, he was intense? That could mean anything, and the sparse explanation left far too much to the imagination. She had said that he wouldn't hurt you, at the very least...

There was only one real way to find out, you supposed, and there was no point in dawdling, so you slid B's letter back into the large envelope she had left for you, pocketed the key that had been inside, and, after looking around the lobby for a moment, let yourself into the lounge itself. The massive space, littered with low tables and comfortable chairs and sofas, was empty of all but a lone figure, pacing a track into the carpet in front of the gleaming bar. He looked up at you sharply the moment you stepped into the large room, and smiled broadly in instant recognition.

He didn't bother walking to your side, clearly impatient, and teleported straight to you, standing beside a barstool one moment and hovering over you the next. It was only when he was directly before you that you even recognized him; it was a pretty fair distance, between the door to the lounge and the bar, and the sweating, panting, slightly drooling monster standing before you wasn't who you had been expecting to be greeted by at all.

Nova was a wreck. Even after just a single day in his heat, he managed to look like he'd been stranded in a desert for a year, his fluffy coat and thick sweater abandoned somewhere, every visible (and likely non-visible as well) bone streaked with stardust infused perspiration. His shorts were stained and torn, likely by attempts to assuage the rampant desire burning in him on his own, socks and shoes just as missing as his other accouterments.

He wore a bright, slightly manic grin, dripping with unspoken need and saliva he couldn't seem to control, his hands flexed and clawed at his sides, as though he was attempting to keep from grabbing you with all his might, and his gaze burned you with its magnitude, bright and steady.

Not like a flame, but a star, unmoving and rapturous.

A quiet, rumbling growl echoed in his hollow chest, and from his bones radiated a sweltering warmth that reached your flesh even from the distance he held himself away, thick and cloying with the stench of male desire and animal instinct and raw, undiluted sex.

He leaned further over you, where you stood enshrined in his shadow, and breathed you in so deeply and hungrily you'd have thought you were his favorite meal, the drool dripping from his parted jaw thickening and the growl in his chest deepening. His tongue, long and tapering, extended to lick at the deluge distractedly.

You shivered almost instinctively, unable to look away from him and the gravity of his presence (B had been right... intense was the right word for this). You truly hadn't known what to expect when it came to monster heat, beyond the obvious (a metric shit ton of mating), and the last time you'd seen him he had been in bara form, large but sweet and incredibly giving... seeing Nova like this was a system shock that took you a moment to overcome.

When you had, at least mostly, you smiled at him tremulously, cautious and starting to sweat quite a bit yourself (it was so hot, this close to him, and the sheer strength of his scent was fogging your mind a little bit), murmuring how glad you were to see him, and he chuckled darkly, a deep, hypnotic roll of amused laughter that sent a rush of warmth straight between your thighs.

"not as happy as i am to see you, pet. not by a longshot.”

His voice was an entire octave lower than usual, just as deep as the steady, rumbling thrum in his bones, his every word sultry and wanting, even innocuous as they were; his tone, the way his body leaned into yours, and the steady burn of his gaze in his heated sockets spoke far more truly than his utterance.

You couldn't have kept from shuddering in the over-abundance of the sensations running hot though your blood it you'd given it a real, honest effort, locked in place like prey in the sights of its predator, and you whimpered under your breath, every nerve in your body a live wire, as his breath rolled over your skin in an intoxicating cloud. He was shuffling closer now, clawed, eager, shaking hands hovering over your hips like a vagrant hovers over a feast; he was inspecting you, breathing in your scent and sweeping your form with quick, feverish sockets as though searching for something just beyond his grasp.

A string of drool had dripped down to stain the surface of his rising and falling ribcage, glowing as brightly as the tented front of his shorts, nearly pressed against your abdomen.

"your trip was safe? no one bothered you? i swear on every star if anyone so much as laid a finger on you-”

His protectiveness shouldn't have startled you, B had warned you that he would be much more jealous, but the hardness and threat in his tone that stole the former warmth from his words sent a surprised gasp tumbling from your parted lips. Your hands jumped to his chest almost on their own, your fingers lacing between his thick, overheated ribs as though they belonged there (his entrancing, powerful gaze snapped to your hands, magical irises dilating and threatening scowl growing into a smirk), and your voice trembled nearly as much as your knees as you insisted all had been well on your journey.

Perhaps he had been soothed by your assertion... perhaps your gentle touch and the swell of your own desire had distracted him. In either case, following your attempt to quell the strangely savage beast, Nova's growling quieted, his gaze hooded and amorous, his hands heavy as they finally alighted on your hips. He pulled you closer by that grasp, pressing you fully to his front at last, and smirked as he bent to push his mouth against your ear, your surprised jolt at feeling just how hard he was evidently pleasing him.

"heh... good. you promised yourself to me... promised to sate my needs and bear my young. i won't have anyone trying to take that from us.”

His voice was a whisper against your ear, as soft as the circles his thumbs made on the swell of your waist, but he may as well have shouted, for the effect it had on you; your knees collapsed entirely, only your hold on him and his firming on your waist keeping you from falling to the ground at his feet, and you laughed shakily as he chuckled and plucked you off your ineffectual feet and into his arms, your heart beating like a drum inside your chest.

You were so much closer to him this way, your arms around his shoulders and your face level with his, his presence and his heavy scent and the heat of him surrounding you and filling your head and rushing in your veins like lava. He took almost immediate advantage of your proximity to press a lingering, wet kiss to your lips, crushing you against him covetously as he did so, and when he pulled back, he wore a sloppy, almost recognizable grin through the haze of his ardor, sockets sparkling with mischief.

“knew i was gonna sweep you off your feet.”

You didn't even have to look at him to know he winked along with his pun, you could hear the joy for it in his voice, and his smile only brightened further when you snorted in quiet mirth, your nose wrinkling and your head shaking. You murmured that he was terrible, he responded by snickering and squeezing the handful of ass he now had complete access to, and kissed you again when you gasped quietly.

It was far longer this time, punctuated by the sweep of his dripping tongue and the rub of his thumb between your thighs, and when you parted this time, you were both panting and clinging to each other. There was a far fiercer light burning in his sockets now, colored and intensified by your mutual need, and he bent close to lick a fervent strip up your throat, forcing a whimper of longing from your lips that he growled at passionately.

"stars, if i didn't _despise_ the thought of someone stumbling in on us and seeing you naked, i'd have you right here on the floor...”

You whined your longing for the same, tilting your head back to allow him more room to take in your scent, and he smiled, wide and jagged, against the flesh there, nipping gently and groping at you wantonly.

“that's what i like to hear, starshine. now let's get you into something more comfortable... like my bed.”

* * *


	17. The Great Beast (Underfell Gaster Beast)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claw has been waiting for you.
> 
> He's never been the patient one.
> 
> *Underfell Gaster Beast*

* * *

Anonymous said:

Welp, hope I'm doing this right *drops bag of G on table* Could I spend heat season with Claw, please and thank you?

* * *

Excitement bubbled in your stomach, your hands shaking a little as you fumbled with the letter you had been sent weeks before, nearly dropping it as you crossed the street towards the large building that was to be your home for the next few weeks. Today was the day you met with the monster that would be your mate, to assist him in assuaging the terrible, overwhelming heat of his breeding season, and you honestly couldn't wait.

B's warning of how extreme your chosen partner's loving could be passed in one ear and out the other. You'd asked for Claw because you know how hard he rolled, and just what sort of monster he was. You craved his worst, and looked forward to just how much of a monster his heat had made him into.

Nearly giddy enough to walk right out of your shoes, you let yourself into the lobby of the lounge and, much to your surprise (B had said there wasn't going to be anyone there to greet you, not that you minded either way), found a familiar face sitting behind it.

Comic was reclined behind B's side of the large reception desk, turned to face the bay window that held Casanova's prized herb garden. His brow was furrowed, a frown on his usually jovial face, and was talking quietly on a rather beaten up cell phone, glancing at you and holding up a single finger to indicate for you to wait when you approached the desk.

“-i do, i wouldn't've left him with you if i didn't. i just... you know i didn't mean it like that. i'm just worried, okay? he's got a history of- ...i know. i'm sorry, i'm trying. the heat doesn't make it easier. ...okay. ...yeah. ...miss you too. bye.”

He hung up the phone and let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his nasal ridge and sliding the phone into a jacket pocket before turning to face you. The old, familiar grin was back in place as he did, warm and inviting despite its slight crook (you could tell the heat was having its way with him too, the thick lines of sweat streaking his skull and the weight of his magic in the air telling), and he leaned an easy, casual elbow on B's desk calendar as he gave you a quick once over.

“heya kid, sorry for the wait. howsit?”

You affirmed you were well, taking in hand the heavy manila envelope he scooted towards you with a fingertip (it contained, when you opened it, another letter from B, a heavy iron skeleton key that you could sense the pun in, and a handful of dog treats designed, the letter explained, to put your partner to sleep, should things get out of hand), but sent Comic a sideways glance and a query about his phone call, wondering aloud if anything was wrong.

His smile faded slightly, and he shifted in his seat in clear discomfort, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“nah, everything's good. was just checking on b.”

That explained a lot. You knew he and her had been having some issues, ever since their fight before the quarantine, possibly only made worse by his insistence that she stay off the lounge floor until all danger had passed. It looked (or sounded, at least) like there was still trouble in paradise, but you knew better than to pry, and asked only after the director of the lounge's health.

He appeared thankful for your clemency, sending you a grateful smile as he mopped at the sweat clinging to his jaw with his jacket sleeve.

“she's doing good. stir crazy, but she and the baby are healthy, and that's what matters.”

He looked fiercely proud of this fact, his smile curving happily and his chest swelling with pride, and you smiled back at him, overjoyed to hear the news. You were curious, though, why he wasn't with her now, and when you asked him, he deflated quicker than a lead balloon, his shoulders drooping and his brow gathering shadows as it furrowed over a half-hearted smile.

“i had a request for the season. was gonna turn it down so i could stay with her, protect her and all, but she insisted i take it, stretch my legs and get some air. so... here i am.”

He didn't sound enthused by the prospect at all, playing idly with his zipper pull as though searching for something to do with his hands and staring discontentedly into the middle distance, but shrugged off your quiet, empathetic apology with a laugh and a watery but sincere smile.

“it's fine, honest, i'm just being a sad sack. fresh is with her, so i know she's safe. i'm really just waiting around for my gig to show. my wrist was starting to hurt though, so i figured i'd help out a bit, show the thrill seekers the way around.”

You giggled at the hint of jest in his words, though you weren't entirely sure just how joking it was (he was well known for having amazing control over his magic, so it was no stretch of the imagination to assume that it was easy for him to waylay his heat instincts by just jerking off), and followed along after him obediently when he stood and motioned for you to follow him, dropping your payment on the corner of Fresh's desk in an afterthought as you trailed behind the monster out onto the lounge floor.

“lot of you requested the more... monstrous monsters, and we keep them in their containment areas, during the season. their heats can get pretty _heated_ , heh. not like the dark room monsters, they just get off on causing pain. the myths... well. you asked for claw, you'll see.”

He walked as he talked, hands inserted in the pockets of his shorts, usual pink slippers flopping along the carpet as he led you through the wide, scratched up doorway that opened up into the Mythical lounge, where the largest, most in touch with their instincts monsters usually resided. It was filled with overlarge, overstuffed furniture marred with various bite marks, scratches, and tears, low, now empty tables usually draped with food to whet the beasts’ appetites, and an assortment of posts, toys, and other media to keep them entertained between customers.

In the center of the cavernous room was the snake pit, a large, pillow lined indent laid into the floor for the lamias, through a silk hung doorway lay Aranea’s nest away from home (it was dark and cold, within... he must still be away with his wives), in one corner was a tiered climbing tower to enrich the Gaster Beasts... And in the back wall was a set of stairs you'd never seen before, in your comings and goings. It led downwards and out of sight around a corner, well lit and inlaid with thick, industrial carpet made to withstand the claws and scales of various monsters, and Comic was leading you straight towards it.

Some part of you had anticipated that it would be colder, as you descended to what could only be part of the basement, but somehow, it was even warmer than the ground floor was; not musty, like it wasn't well ventilated, but the air was heavy and heated, almost as thick as a sauna. There was a musk to it as well, bringing to mind the wilds of the outdoors and the dens of beasts, and something about it was making it so hard to think that you nearly walked into a wall, saved only by your companion catching you by the elbow.

Now at your side and guiding you along the corridor the stairwell had emerged onto (several hallways branched off of it, leading to closed, heavy looking doors), Comic was sweating even more heavily than before, no longer bothering to wipe at it and panting quietly beneath his breath. His hands shook, on your arm and when he stopped to shoulder open a thick iron door inlaid into the first hallway, and he stepped away from you hastily the moment you had both walked inside the door, pressing himself against the painted bricks he stood beside and turning his face away from you to breathe haggardly into the hood of his jacket.

His smile at your look askance was pained but apologetic, his hands once again shoved into his pockets and his sweat stained jaw just as tight as his shorts were starting to look.

“sorry babe, getting myself under control here. they never bother to try to curb it, so the myths' magic is ridiculously strong in their heats, and it catches. try'na... make sure you get where you wanted to go, heh.”

You appreciated his candor and his control, thanking him in a quiet whisper while he regained his composure, and looked around the room you had been let into. It was less a room, though, and more like another long corridor, clinical and brightly lit and studded with doors just as thick and heavy as the one you had just passed through. From beyond _these_ doors, though, you could hear the keens and roars of the monsters that most fascinated you, concrete scraping under jagged claws, chains rattling and metal clashing against metal. There were human cries from the quieter rooms, clearly passionate and heated, and you blushed and looked down at your toes at the thought of your own joining the choir.

Comic seemed to notice, his smile sharpening a degree too far to be innocuous, but he said nothing if he sensed your want, only shoving himself away from the wall and motioning you further along the hall. He stopped again, just before he reached the first of the iron doors, and nodded his head towards the increased sounds of agitation from the closed doors.

“can't go any further with you; he'll likely get territorial if he smells me, and we don't want that. he's down at the very end.”

He pointed towards one of the largest doors, set at the end of the hallway and marred by a large dent in its surface (you understood the need for that; Claw was a big, big boy, he would need lots of space, especially lost to his heat), before sliding his hands back into his pockets and nodding towards the envelope in your hands, nearly forgotten in the haze your mind was stumbling through.

“your key will fit the door to both the room and his cage. he's on a chain, good enchanted one, that it won't unlock; it's there so you can crawl out of reach if he's getting too intense or if you need to rest. don't get _shackled_ to one spot if you don't have to~ he's also muzzled, to prevent him from marking you and/or inflicting any accidental damage with his teeth; you won't be able to unlock that either, no matter how hard he tries to convince you his bark is worse than his bite.”

He looked very pleased with himself, in a sharp way that you were starting to recognize as an upsurge in his own mating instincts, when you laughed at his jokes, but made no further moves forward, only watching as you bid him farewell and made your way to the door that concealed your partner from you.

You thought no more of him after you had unlocked and stepped inside of Claw's containment chamber, however... you had eyes only for the massive room, equipped with kitchen accessories, bedding, and bathing accouterments along its edge and filled, almost entirely, with a ceiling to floor glass cage. At least, you assumed it was glass... some of that bulletproof stuff, maybe, considering the scores from claws that raked across it here and there, and that it had managed to hold the gigantic, pacing beast that was watching you avidly from within.

Any order the cage had once held had been upset to allow the wide path he was pacing into the bare concrete flooring, bedding and mattresses and a shredded stuffed animal tossed aside uncaringly so he could strut along at the end of the chain securing him to the rear wall. He preened as he stalked, almost as though attempting to show off for you, thick plates of bone shifting with a grace a beast his size shouldn't possess... the crimson magic burning in his sockets sinking into your blood and speeding your heart... his long tail slithering along the stone just as drawing as the proud jut of his swaying, almost painful looking erection.

He let out a low, pleasant, approving growl the moment your eyes fell on his length, shaking the ground under his feet and rattling his chain; the thick scent of his magic intensified and nearly brought you to your knees, a gasp of helpless want spilling from your lips as you caught yourself and felt yourself flush bright red. The growl became a chuff of what you knew to be laughter, deep and rumbling, and through the cage of iron enclosing his horned skull, you saw him grin, a trail of drool slipping from his fangs to drip to the floor.

“you impressed, human?”

You nearly whimpered aloud at the sound of his voice, raw and haggard in his want but deliriously deep, promising all your most wanton desires should you only bend to his will and want, and you dropped the envelope you had held to the floor, fumbling with the iron key you held. There was a large part of your mind that desperately wanted nothing more than to slot the key into the door and close the space between you, remove the walls and the floor that stood in your way to be one with him... but another part, something that warred with the delightful instinct to present yourself to him, begged you to run.

Even chained and muzzled, he was a hunter, a slavering monster forcefully prevented from pouncing, and right now, he was hunting _you_. The thought was pervasive, sending a chill through the reactive heat pouring through your veins... but it wasn't strong enough, not _nearly_ strong enough, to overpower the pheromones thick in the air around you, urgently quashing the flight instinct pleading for you to scurry home and hide under your covers. It moved your feet almost of its own will, carrying you towards the door, and prompted you to raise your hand to insert the key into the reinforced lock before you even realized what you were doing.

Comic had been right... their heat magic was difficult to resist. Luckily, you'd never had any desire to resist it at all.

Claw let out another growl as you worked to let yourself into his enclosure, his pacing growing faster and the lights overhead flickering as his magic spiked. A thrill of lust washed over you like a tidal wave, nearly collapsing you against the front of the glass door as you unlocked it with tremulous hands (there were three separate locks, and the last one was almost too high for you to reach), and his snarls only deepened in response.

“i know ya are. i can smell your desire from here... little human can't wait to be mated~”

You nodded a few more times than necessary, breathing heavily and accidentally banging your nose against the now breath fogged glass door in front of you as you did (it was a little cooler than the heat radiating from his glistening bones, and it made a wild, unruly thought of stripping and pressing yourself against the glass naked run through your head), and, at last, managed to pry the door open, falling through it and allowing it to close behind you.

His scent was somehow even stronger within the cage, his heat sweltering and immediately making sweat break out over your flesh, and as you regained your feet, your legs shaking and your chest rising and falling rapidly in your excitement, the stalking, fevered Gaster Beast before you lunged, his chain snapping taut and glowing with runes to keep him restrained.

He was halted only a few feet from you, close enough for flecks of drool to fly onto your skin in his abrupt halt. Wickedly curved claws ground into the cement below as he strained to reach you, his muzzle creaked in protest as his jaws snapped and gritted. The magic in his sockets was crazed, crackling like lightning as he seared you with his gaze, and his long, thick tail whipped back and forth with such force and speed in his agitation that the air sung with its passing.

A surge of fear ran through you, forcing your back against the wall behind you, but it appeared that the savageness of his sudden charge was a passing thing; he calmed only moments afterwards, panting and dripping scarlet foam to the ground at his feet and rattling as he shook with his temper's passing. He hummed at you as gently as he was capable of, grating but affectionate, obviously attempting to soothe your fear, and you had to admit that it did work, something in you immediately relaxing like an unclenching fist. You went to him tentatively, extending a hand to stroke one of his horns (he was hot to the edge of burning, nearly making you flinch back), and his purring ratcheted up high enough to rattle the glass walls, his skull extending to nudge gently at your stomach.

“c'mon. you kept me waitin'... i don't like ta wait."

You stumbled slightly, his strength enough to move you with the smallest of motions; he was clearly attempting to push you towards the messy piles of upset mattresses and blankets on his floor, the art of subtlety entirely lost on him, but he was slow and careful as he nosed at you with his muzzle, and his magic and his deep croons and your rampant want for him allowed you the indulgence to let him move you without issue.

You certainly had no want to go another moment without him, your fear for his violent outburst passive under the assurance in your mind that he would be calmer once he had assuaged a bit of his mating needs, and you whispered your apologies to him for making him wait as you allowed him to nudge you along, one hand set on the curve of his cranium, though the muzzle. He grunted at that, a dismissive sound that echoed through the enclosure, as he finally reached the edge of the mounds of pillows and bedding and soft things he had accumulated, and pushed you hard enough to send you stumbling onto it.

“not your fault, mate. not usually patient, even in tha best of circumstances... even less now. lie here."

You laughed from where you had fallen, tickled by his brusqueness and more than a little excited by the position (he towered over you, from where you lay prone at his feet) and turned obediently onto your back for him, reaching up to welcome him. You were still clothed, your jacket twisted slightly and your shoes awkward in the masses of cotton materials, but he didn't seem to care at the moment, lost in the press of the muzzle to your flesh as he scented along your body. He lingered between your thighs, his long tongue slithering through the metal to lap at the denim (gods, you wished you could take that muzzle off of him...), and halted, after nosing at your throat rapturously, at the curve of your elbow.

He let out a soft, possessive snarl, his sockets narrowing and his tail swishing back and forth angrily.

"you smell like him. tha lesser male.”

You trembled as a prickling of your latent fear resurfaced, recalling Comic catching your elbow to keep you from falling, and attempted to speak to explain yourself, hoping against hope that he wouldn't lose his temper, but he growled over you when you opened your mouth, hushing you with a stern but affectionate swipe of his tongue over the offending flesh. He pawed at your clothes as he did, gentle enough not to hurt you but firmly enough to rake a few tears into the fabric (ah... you'd wondered why B had insisted you bring multiple outfits), and shifted his skull to the side to hold your gaze domineeringly.

“we'll fix that."

* * *


	18. A Gentleman's Game (Don G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Don is a monster of refinement and taste.
> 
> And he has a taste for you~
> 
> (Don G)

* * *

9differenttypesofcrazy said:

Hello~ if Daddy Don is available, I'd love to be his for the heat season. (Especially if he wants to indulge in some of his kinks ?)

* * *

You were almost sad to leave the coolness of the autumn breeze making its way down the street in front of the lounge, basking in the afternoon light and breathing in the scents of fall as you had a last cigarette before heading inside, but there were far more pressing matters than enjoying nature, even if you wouldn't be seeing much of it for the next two weeks. You had a monster to please, and you bit your lower lip as you grinned giddily, flicking the end of your cigarette into the ashtray beside the doors and letting yourself into the lounge with a spring in your step.

You were here to meet the Don, a G Sans from a Mobtale universe, and seeing him always, _always_ made your heart skip a beat. He was so refined and gentlemanly, always in a suit and always upholding himself to a level of polite gentility that put most of his other Mobtale compatriots to shame, even when he was trying to intimidate. He had a charm to him so smooth it went down like a century old wine, and a wit and intelligence to his words so overwhelming that you could do nothing but watch him in awe while he spoke. His native Italian had made it difficult to communicate, at first, but he was picking up the common tongue very quickly, and his occasional slip back into his original tongue did nothing but accentuate his relaxed, lilting tenor.

It was a difficult thing to not simply stare at him, slack-jawed and swept away by his mere presence, saying nothing of the handsome cut of his jawline in a Versace three piece, surrounded by cigar smoke and laughter. He'd caught you looking more than once, and the wink he always gave you in response was more teasing and knowing than your heart could often bear.

And though you'd suspected he'd be waiting for you, far too mannerly to force you to walk all the way up to his room on your own, you hadn't been prepared to see his tall, striking figure leaned against the reception desk in the least, not even by the cigarette that you'd smoked to steel your nerves. He looked especially smart today, dashing in gray silk and Italian leather and the starkness of the crimson of his tie, even given his grave expression; he was looking especially good in comparison to Comic, who was doing his best impression of a man just finished running a marathon, seated behind B's desk panting and sweating a puddle onto the carpet.

The Don's frown seemed to be for whatever it was that Comic was telling him, his skull nodding up and down in understanding and his sockets hooding sympathetically. He was paying rapt attention to the conversation, feet crossed at the ankles and fingers steepled under his chin, so much so that your approach went completely unnoticed until you were nearly beside him.

Comic was coming to the end of what sounded like a long winded spiel, frustration and the height of his heat clearly getting to him; he threw you a distracted, disgruntled glance, stumbling on a few words in an attempt to keep the conversation private, and finished off lamely as he turned to pretend to shuffle some papers around, hurriedly sweeping several balled up tissues into the garbage can under the desk.

“-but you know how it is.”

The Don nodded soberly, reaching out to pat Comic's shoulder comfortingly, and glanced over at you as he did, sending you a wink from the corner of his socket to let you know he knew you were there. You blushed and barely held back a giggle at the sight, covering your mouth and turning to give the two monsters some space, but didn't miss the curve of his smile as you did, evidently pleased to have flustered you.

“I do, mio amico. Women are a gift, but in many ways, so mysterious to the mind of man. Forgive me, though... my company has arrived.”

Comic only grunted and jerked his skull to indicate that it was fine in response, digging a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and unlocking the screen with a swipe of a thumb (so unlike him... he must be having a really hard time with his heat), and the Don nodded once more, righting himself from his lowered posture, and gave the grumpy monster one last, understanding smile before turning to you, his expression lighting up with joy, and coming to your side.

He took your hand in his, soft and adoring, and bent over it to press a kiss to your knuckles, nearly making your heart beat completely out of your chest.

“My lovely mate, amore meraviglioso... you honor me.”

You mumbled something not even you could understand in response, lost to the soft romance in his golden gaze, the press of his bony lips to your hand, the warmth of his hand in yours, the scent of him washing over you and overpowering any sentient thoughts you had had (you'd always been weak for him and the smell of his cologne, but it was... it was different now, it was stronger and more powerful and sinking into your blood to turn your mind to mush and your knees to jelly), and he chuckled at your stumbling, standing again and reaching his free hand out to cup your jaw in his hand.

His thumb caressed your lower lip, his gaze a gentle flame even as he pulled you closer into his embrace by his hold on your hand, and you breathed out a whimper when he bent to press a kiss to your lips this time, clinging to him desperately while at the same moment trying not to wrinkle his expensive suit. He tasted like all the richest things in the world, like fine wine and chocolate and cigars and magic, and it was everything you could do not to lose yourself in that single, chaste kiss, trembling and protesting with wordless whines when he pulled back with a smile and another swipe of his thumb over your cheek.

He tutted at your squirming, though, pulling away and standing to full height again despite your complaints, and pulled you fully against him instead, his hand resting on the small of your back and ensconcing your hand as though meaning to lead you into a dance.

“Let us adjourn. Something so beautiful as you should be treasured in privacy, si? Hold on tight now... we're going to take a shortcut~”

You supposed you weren't all that eager to get down in the middle of the lobby, and you suspected he wasn't either (B's letter had said that most monsters in heat were possessive in the extreme, guarding their mates jealously... though it was difficult to imagine the Don being jealous over anything, truth be told, and he certainly didn't look it), and held onto the monster obediently as he turned on the spot, pulling you both into the Void and then, just as quickly, back out of it.

You stumbled, thrown off balance and disturbed (teleporting was nothing like B's world portals, that had been _unpleasant_ to say the least), and your monster partner led you to a wing-backed chair set before a grand mahogany ( _mahogany_ ) desk, supporting you and apologizing for the suddenness and discomfort of the jump. He fawned over you so much that you had forgotten the unpleasantness of it almost immediately, flushed and oversensitive from his ministrations, but you said nothing to discourage the kisses and gentle touches, allowing him to steal your breath and worship your body to his content.

After a long moment, he strode across the room and to a table set with various bottles and glasses to fetch you both a 'cognac' (“To restore us to proper health after the terrible cold, mia signora.”), pressing a final kiss to your reddened cheek and an envelope into your hands.

“Take a moment to rest, carissima... perhaps investigate what B left for you in this. I picked it up for you at the front desk, while I waited; I hope you don't mind.”

You honestly wouldn't have minded if he'd opened and read it himself, and you tore the envelope open as you looked around his room with wide eyes (it had been modeled to look like a rather grand studio apartment, paneled with cream wallpaper and dark wood and lined with flowing, gauzy curtains that fluttered in the breeze from his opened windows), marveling at the large, neatly made bed, the houseplants set on nearly every flat surface, and the rays of the afternoon sun breaking through the colored glass of hanging mobiles in the windows, scattering color across the tiled floor. Ivory columns rose to the arched ceiling in the corners, where a wide-bladed fan spun lazily and stirred the smoky, scented air, and hand-painted portraits hung from every bare space that bookshelves and dressers and a large, floor to ceiling mirror didn't take up.

The monster certainly knew how to live. You wondered, as you slid the letter B had left for you from its torn envelope, if the room had been like this when he'd come, or if he'd commissioned the work to the architecture himself.

The letter itself was a welcome from the director of the lounge, excusing her absence (ahh, so she was with Fresh then. You'd wondered why Comic was downstairs...) and explaining again the intricacies of the time you would be spending at the lounge, as well as your soon-to-be-lover's heat idiosyncrasies. She described him as a giver, but also as incredibly possessive, and you furrowed your brows at the warning to not allow him to use bondage on you, glancing up at his back as he poured two glasses of liquor for you both, rolling the cigar that had come with the letter between two fingers contemplatively.

He didn't seem to be acting the way the letter described at all... he appeared to be exactly the same as he always was, his suit as crisp and clean as his room, his mannerisms polite and controlled. Was he even in heat? Or... or maybe he just wasn't turned on by you?

The thought stung, your flush now one of humiliation and embarrassed chagrin, and when he returned to you, gladly trading the cigar for a glass tumbler of amber alcohol, you wondered aloud, in the tiniest voice, why his heat didn't seem to be as bad as Comic's had been.

He let out a snort in response, his smile crooked but kind, as he trimmed his cigar, bending to push another kiss to your lips from his seat on the arm of your chair.

“It is though, mia colomba. It is difficult to bear, moreso now that you are here, together with me, and I have yet to get you into bed... but I am accustomed to showing no strain while under pressure, in my line of work. It is... come si dice... better to show no weakness, while in the public eye.”

You supposed you understood that, and now that he had made mention of it, and that he was sitting closer to you, you could see the stains of golden sweat on the inside of his collar, the lines of strain around his sockets and his mouth. He looked more tired, this close up, and his body was tense, far more than his usual relaxed posture. The drink seemed to be helping, as was the cigar (he puffed at it with near relief, once he had lit it, and even allowed you to take a few deep inhalations), but there was a tremble to his hand that hadn't been there before, when he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it again, a spark to his gaze that seared now, when before it had only warmed.

“So do not be offended, il tesoro... you have affected me, deeply, and soon, I will show you just how deeply.”

Your misgivings were abandoned and forgotten in the wake of how he murmured the last word of his oath, the curve of his grin and the upsurge in his magic forcing the image of just _how_ he intended to show you and how deeply he would do so into your mind without failing. Your mouth dried, requiring a long sip of the drink he had brought you to quench, but it was of little use when, the next moment, he set aside his own drink and stood, holding out his hand and looking down on you, with sultry heat, from under lowered lids.

“But you wished to indulge in some of my... kinks first, no?”

More dry mouth, more jellied knees, but he gave you no time to consider either, as you placed your hand into his palm; he pulled you from the chair and into his arms to carry you to the grand bed, setting you on the edge and silencing your words with another, harder kiss. His hands were bolder now, caressing the curves and dips and fleshiness of your body, pulling your shirt off before you even realized it was gone. Your own hands worked at his tie in the times they could be pulled away from stroking over the dome of his skull or tracing the broadness of his shoulders.

He chuckled warmly at your worship of him, palming your bared chest and holding your gaze meaningfully.

“I have missed my little playthings very much, while the maledetta malattia ravages the worlds... missed them, and all the fun we would have together.”

His hands took the undoing of his tie from you, a dismissive gesture thrown towards the door to his room as he pulled at the knot (you could barely register the sound of the seven various locks and bolts closing with ominous finality, though it and the sound of his windows closing and barring themselves were quickly driven from your mind entirely as his teeth closed over your bottom lip to nip at it), and once it was free, he took its ends and tied it around your eyes, the last thing you would see for several hours his playful, slightly too sharp smile, the cherry red end of the cigar between his teeth, and his undone belt buckle.

“So while my mind is still my own, and not lost to the rut... let us play~”

* * *


	19. Along Came a Spider (UT Sans Drider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea is notorious for his great many wives, and his love for each one of them.
> 
> You've decided to throw your name into the hat.
> 
> *UT Sans Drider*

* * *

heart8beatx said:

I hope I'm not too late in requesting this for heat day! I thought long and hard on this. Done the maths, the research and come to the conclusion that I am ready for the consequences of this decision... *deep breath* I want to request Aranea. I have been fascinated with him since he first revealed himself years ago, but have been too nervous to ask due to being taken away and bred but... After everything that has happened to me, I need someone like him in my life. But only if he'll want me too.

* * *

You truly hadn't known what to expect, when the portal to B's universe and the Banana Lounge appeared before you, inviting you in and to your chosen destiny; B's letter had told you Aranea would be awaiting you, and that she hoped you would spend the rest of your lives together happily... but she had revealed little more information than that, beyond asking your payment be sent in digitally beforehand, so you wouldn't have to bother with it later.

So when you rolled yourself through it, ready to appear, as always, on the sidewalk in front of the large building that contained the house of sin and pleasure, you were greatly surprised to find yourself, instead, completely surrounded by trees. The air was crisp, turning the leaves about you into a bower of red and orange and gold, the sky a vibrant blue between the high branches, and the hills rolled merrily into the treeline, adorned with some of the fallen leaves already. There were no sounds of traffic, none of the bustle of the city to crowd the air... nothing but the wind in the trees and the call of birds and the scattering of the leaves in the playful touch of the light breeze.

There were no identifying landmarks about the arbor of tall trees to indicate where you were, either, nothing but a jutting outcropping of rock nearby to break up the forest landscape at all, and you spun your chair in place in growing confusion, wondering if you'd been sent to the wrong place by mistake. It was only when you had begun to panic, questioning how you were going to traverse the forest in your wheelchair (your cell had no service, unsurprisingly), that you spotted him.

Aranea stood, in his ancient, majestic glory, beside the large pile of rocks you had glanced at only passingly, watching you with such close, careful watchfulness and narrowed sockets that a chill went down your spine. He was taller than you remembered, though it had been some time since you'd last seen him, and only approached when you had noticed him, carrying a rather innocuous, lumpy bag in his hands.

Your breaths quickened as he drew near enough to tower over you, his many feet whisper quiet even among the fallen leaves, sinking back into your chair in breathless anxiety, but he made no move to swoop down upon you, no indication that he meant to sink his glistening fangs into your flesh. Instead, he lowered himself, ponderously and with great care, to the ground at your feet, so you were nearly facing each other.

He sent you a small, strained smile, looking over you with such intense attention that you flushed, before fishing, from the bag he held, a surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves. He put them on with a speed that belied long practice, and only once they were in place reached out to touch you, tracing a single finger along your jaw in a way that somehow reassured you (you could feel his claw through the rubber, and yet you felt no danger from its touch), before lowering it to check your pulse.

You made to speak, unsure of what he was doing, but he shushed you quietly but firmly, glancing up at you quellingly as he withdrew a forehead thermometer from his bag next.

“Stay still. I won't hurt you, I just need to make sure you're well.”

You supposed you understood that, and stilled yourself obediently for him to do his checkup, though you did assure him, in a quiet whisper of a voice, that you had quarantined yourself very carefully these past few weeks, at B's behest. His sockets crinkled at that, his sharp gaze softening as what you knew to be a smile creased his face behind his mask, but he continued on with his tests with the precision of what you were suddenly sure was actual medical knowledge, taking your temperature, your blood pressure, checking your breathing and heart rate, and asking a series of only slightly intrusive questions (“Any headaches or muscle strains? Unusually tired? Uncommon digestion problems?”).

At last, though, just as you were starting to get a little bit drowsy under his strangely soothing care (did he just... have an aura of restfulness? You hadn't been as bothered by his tests as you felt you should have been...), he pulled away and stripped off his gloves and mask, revealing a far more welcoming and pleasant expression than the one he had greeted you with. He placed his protective equipment into the bag and set it aside, and reached out to take your hands in his, rubbing their backs with his thumbs and smiling blissfully.

“Thank you, precious one. Your patience and indulgence speaks well of you. Come, let me show you the way inside. Do you need assistance?”

He indicated your chair with a tilt of his head, showing no signs of being put off by its presence, and you blushed at the pet name, your throat tight and your heart speeding with eager anticipation. You knew he was a giving and indulgent monster, conscientious and tactful... but you truly hadn't hoped to be received so readily. Maybe he was only being polite...?

He showed no sign of withholding affection, though, bending to kiss your hands when you admitted that you would likely need help over the forest floor, and hauled himself to his feet far more gracefully than a monster of his size should have been able to, rounding your chair and taking up your bag to sling across his back before pushing you, as easily as though you weighed nothing, across the slightly bumpy ground towards the outcropping of rock. He handled you well, barely jostling you along the way, and as he rolled you into the shadow of the boulders, he explained himself further.

“I deeply apologize for the manner of your arrival and your reception, my queen, the secrecy and the testing both... but I feel, with my family’s lives on the line, I cannot be too careful. I hope you understand, and know that it is not personal. I would not demean or offend intentionally.”

You told him you understood completely, that you truly appreciated the lengths he seemed to be going to to keep his family safe from the disease, and he beamed down at you, halting for a moment to tilt your head back and press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. Your head was spinning a little when he finally pulled back, gasping for breath and shaking a little as he ran his phalanges through your hair, and he chuckled at your expression of awe before continuing to push you.

“I'm pleased, dearest one. It would break me for them to fall ill to this disease... I fear what it would do to us here. But such talk is moot. We have better things to discuss, you and I.”

As he talked, he guided your chair around a particularly large boulder, and as you rounded it, it shimmered in the late afternoon sun, an optical illusion (or, more likely, a magical one) that revealed, the closer you drew near, a sloping, paved tunnel beneath the rocks. It was large enough for three people to walk abreast with their arms spread, leading steadily down under the earth and lit with golden lanterns that were likely just as magical as the entrance, and stood tall enough that Aranea didn't have to duck at all as he pushed you inside.

The air was warmer, within the tunnel, the gentle sound of music and laughter wafting from further within; the walls were bare, thus far, besides the light of the lanterns, but they were like no cavern walls you'd seen before, smooth as marble and threaded through with silvery veins. Here and there, dark wood supports ran across the ceiling, carved with runes you couldn't decipher or recognize.

You were quiet, as you marveled at the sight and he rolled you further down the tunnel, but your mind returned to you when one of his hands, seemingly unable to be still, stroked over your neck and shoulder worshipfully, your blush rising again from where it had rested. 

Your worries returned to you, the deeper you went and the more you had time to think. Did he really want you here? Had you forced his hand in accepting you, with something as cheap as money? You spoke your insecurities aloud, wondering if you had enough to offer him to truly be here, if there was even a hope for a future with him, beyond this single meeting, and when your voice broke in your emotion, your anxiety over rejection showing through the cracks, he braked your chair and rounded you to cup your face between gentle hands, his brow lowered with concern.

“There's no need to fear such things. I was forced into nothing, and have no reservations for our joining. Had I intended not to let you join my family, I never would have allowed B to send you here. Just knowing where we are is enough of a secret to keep.”

He kissed you again soundly, wiping away the beginnings of tears with sweeps of his thumbs, and when he broke away to push you further on, your lips still tingling from the depth of his affection (you felt so strangely cherished, and safer than you had in a good while), he kept one of his hands entwined with yours, a balm to the anxieties that his assurances and care were slowly dismissing. It wasn't long before the tunnel ended, leading into a large, arched room that looked to be a communal lounge area, filled with playing spiderlings and toys and whimpering toddlers pulling at their mothers' skirts, chatting women in various stages of pregnancy and music and older ladies telling stories. 

Several hallways led away from the main room, each just as occupied as the main room with the comings and goings of Aranea's large family, and through it all wended a golden, happy aura, and where it came from, the silk strewn walls or the glowing lanterns or the joy of a safe, well kept family, you did not know. All you knew was that there was a smile on nearly every face (some of the youngest babies seemed to only know how to frown), everyone that you passed greeted you like an old friend, and that you had never felt more welcome anywhere before.

In nearly the center of the large room, less an underground cavern and more a temple hell, Aranea released your chair and bent to nudge the side of your face with his dotingly, waving his free hand around the room to indicate it and the other beings scattered around it.

“ This is my nest, my darling... my home, where I keep my most treasured ones, where I share the love of my soul with my brides and raise our children. And with your heart's desire, so flattering and so true... you have made yourself a treasure to me, to be protected and cherished and loved for all your days. So it is your home too.”

Your heart was swelling with so much emotion you could barely contain it; you wondered, idly, if he had bitten you without your realizing, if he was working some sort of magic over you to make you think this way, but there was no sparkle of illusion over your sight... your mind felt your own. It was simply a place filled with goodness and love, created by a monster that wanted nothing more than to be at peace with his treasures.

And the more he touched you and looked on you like he did, with the warmth and appreciation of a devoted worshiper, the less you doubted that you were one of those treasures.

You told him, as you watched a group of five young spiderlings charge past chasing a ball, just how astounded you were, and just how right it felt, to be here, how excited you were to be a part of this, and the drider practically glowed with happiness, swelling with pride and swooping down to press a bevy of kisses to your face, stealing your breath and your heart in an instant.

He pulled back with what seemed like great reluctance, lingering with his forehead pressed to yours and his breath washing over your parted, wetted lips, but in due time he pulled back, sighing happily, and, with an eagerness that brought to mind an excited puppy, he paced towards one of the hallways leading from the main room, patting his children's heads as he strode past them. He looked back at you over his broad shoulder, motioning for you to follow him with the crook of a finger.

“I made a place for you, beloved... for you and me, and the lives we will create here. Come, I'll show you.”

The floor was even, smooth and flat and easy to navigate despite the playing children, and you followed after him through the throng just as eagerly as he led. Along the tunnel you rolled yourself along, round doorways into smaller, more moodily lit rooms were inlaid, doorless but strung with thick curtains. Strange to you, but you assumed there was no real call for intense privacy in a world such as this one, and you shrugged off the tiny pang of discomfort at the thought of anyone else seeing (or hearing) you joined in passion with your monster lover.

You all would be sharing the same husband... it wasn't as though there was a reason for shame.

He came to doorway about halfway down the hallway, holding the curtain aside for you to enter, and revealed, as you did, a comfortably large room, rounded and arched up to a single, red glassed lantern. The gold and scarlet light gave the marbled stone of the sloped walls a feeling of velvety richness, echoed in the round, golden silk bed laid in the center of the room, large enough to allow the both of you to use it with ease. Your new furniture, dressers and bookshelves and low tables (and several bassinets), were laid around the walls, a pathway more than ample to allow your wheelchair access between the bed and all the accouterments, and in the back wall was another doorway, the edges of what looked like a sink and a bathtub visible through the sheer curtain.

You wheeled your way over to the bed, extending a hand to touch the sheets (just as smooth and soft as they looked... did he make the silk himself?), and Aranea dropped the curtain back into place behind you, watching you look it over with quiet eagerness burning in his hooded sockets. He approached to stroke the length of your shoulders after a moment, bending to press a soft kiss to your neck, and you leaned your head to the side to allow it, raising a hand to trace along his jaw.

He hummed, a smile widening against your throat.

“Do you like it? I can change it to your needs, it's of no bother to me.”

You couldn't have possibly asked for more, and you said so, giggling quietly at the memory of what you'd thought his nest would be like (visions of hanging upside down from a web flickered through your mind). He looked pleased by that, as he rounded you to lift you from your chair with both ease and care, and he carried you to and set you down on the bed with just as much attention, thereafter busying himself with putting your things away and sliding your chair to one side of the bed, where you could easily reach it.

You watched him work with a blush again crawling up your cheeks, your position on the bed and his near presence reminding you of why you were here in the first place. You'd come to help him with his heat, to be inducted into his family in the most sensual and lasting way possible... but to all appearances, he didn't seem to need much help at all. B had said he would likely be a great deal more monstrous, instinctive and drawn to breeding incessantly, but he looked perfectly fine. Pleased as punch by your acquisition, humming quietly under his breath in his self-appointed task, but certainly not beholden to any breeding instinct that you could tell at face value.

You wondered at it shyly, playing with the sheets you lay on and hiding your face behind them halfway when he turned to look on you (lord, you hoped you weren't being rude), but he looked unbothered by your query, and quirked a knowing, crooked smile that sent a wave of heat through your blood and striding to the bed to mount it beside you. He was clearly adept at such a thing, his legs curling perfectly against his abdomen to lie of out the way so he could turn and pull you to his chest, one arm curled to support your head and neck and the other playing with your hair.

It felt incredibly natural, despite his size and the knowledge, in the back of your mind, that the pincers along his jaw could snap around your neck and end you in a trice... you felt nothing but the warmth of his bones, the weight of the adoration and care in his gaze and touch, and the simmering of lust that his closeness only furthered.

“My heats are quite fierce, actually. Weeks long, and nearly insatiable, when without a full harem. Thankfully, my time at the lounge has been kind to me, and blessed me with many loves to share myself with. It allows me the control to still care for my family, while at the same time giving me ample opportunity to breed.”

The arm he had inserted behind your head curved, to settle his hand on the narrow of your waist... the other slid down your arm, over your hip, and to the length of your thigh, to lift it around the swell of his thorax. His smile curved wider, the magic glowing in his sockets flickering brighter.

“I knew you were coming with the expectation to help me, though... so for your sake, I have been abstaining, the last several days, and have set aside time to be with you for a few weeks. I have held back, thus far, controlled myself until I could see you to your bed... but seeing you lying there, feeling your want thick in the air... is awakening my hunger. You'll have me all too soon, I can assure you. I hope it will be enough to please your wants~ though I have never failed in that before, I assure you.”

There was a heat in his voice that had not been present before, now, a sharpness to his smile that spoke of pleasure and desire and twisted, sweat soaked bedsheets, and you trembled under the intensity of his gaze, the swell of heat that surged between you and the rush of magic that drowned nearly every thought but him from your mind. You whimpered, arching as much as you could for another kiss, and he bent the rest of the way to accept it, clutching at your body and parting your lips with his tongue.

Your clothes shifted, under his touch, disappearing one by one until you were naked in his capable hands; you panted quietly, as he cupped your flesh and stroked you to readiness, clinging to his thick ribs and pressing wet kisses to the underside of his jaw, but it was only when you felt his magic flare again, the curve of an almost intimidatingly large length pressing to your thigh, that you recalled one last qualm, rising above the tide of desire and need.

You pulled away nervously, when he shifted you beneath him and attempted to take your mouth in another passionate kiss, gripping the sheets and turning your head away and whispering your fear that  _ you _ would not be enough for  _**him** _ , that you would fail him in his hopes of love and lust, but he surprised you with a quiet chuckle, a finger sliding beneath your chin to return your gaze to him.

“Ha... my love, that is impossible. The warmth of another's body is a haven, the most I will ever see of any afterlife, and you... you are that perfect haven for me. There is no need to hide, or feel shame, or hold your deepest desires inside any longer, not with me. I will fulfill them all, every one… we have all the time in the world to know each other, mated and wed in the most intimate way.”

He sealed his promise with a kiss, deep and loving and meaningful, more than enough to dismiss your every qualm, and when he pressed himself into you, making you one and sending gasps of pleasure to your lips, he swallowed them away, whispering another oath with the same love as he made to your body.

“You will never want, nor be alone, ever again.”

* * *


	20. Blood and Bone (Axefell Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't really expect to walk away from this one.
> 
> Blood agrees... but perhaps for other reasons.
> 
> *Axefell Sans*

* * *

Anonymous said:

*throws down a bag of gold eagerly* I would like to apply for heat season with blood if that's okay?

* * *

You paused, for a moment, before you entered the lounge, looking out over the leaf dusted street, the ocean spray thick in the air as the wind carried it in from the nearby bluffs. It was likely the last time you'd ever see the sun, or the outdoors at all, if everything went the way you were imagining it would... you'd come here to see Blood, after all, to help the enormous, insane, cannibalistic Sans with his heat season, and considering the things you'd heard he often did to his partners... well. You didn't really anticipate walking away from this.

But that was fine. Being with these monsters was a once in a lifetime opportunity as it was... it was fitting, somehow, that it should end your life too. It was oddly exciting, as well... your heart had been beating just a little too quickly ever since you'd gotten the letter of acceptance in the mail. Probably not healthy, but the thought of what you were going to experience all too soon had never been far from your mind.

Morbid, perhaps, to be turned on by the thought of literally being fucked to death... but it was what it was.

You sighed, smiling at the rustle of the leaves on the sidewalk at your feet, before turning and letting yourself into the lounge, and raised your brows at the sight of Comic reclining behind the reception desk, looking intently at something on B's computer screen, skull dripping with sweat and jaw gritted. He quickly minimized whatever it was as you approached, shifting in his seat as though adjusting his clothing, and sent you a strained and awkward but welcoming smile.

“heya, kiddo. nice to see ya.”

You murmured your agreement and a reciprocation to it, watching him rifle through a pile of large manila envelopes distractedly, and accepted the one he handed you, wondering to yourself at his state. He was likely in heat too, his magic clearly in flux (his sockets were far too bright, his hands shaking as he withdrew them hurriedly and his aura crackling like a t-shirt straight from the dryer), but why wasn't he with B?

You shrugged as you slid your envelope open, looking to its contents instead as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair again. None of your business, you were certain, and shook your interest away as you read over B's letter of welcome, only looking back to Comic when he coughed quietly to gather your attention again.

He looked slightly more composed, and less feral, now that he had wiped away some of the sweat from his cranium with one of the tissues on the top of the desk, and nodded his skull at the letter in your hands.

“you're here for blood, right? you know where to find him?”

You shook your head, puzzled (wouldn't he just be in the dark room?), and Comic nodded in understanding, drawing a squiggly little map on a bright pink post-it note and handing it to you.

“not surprising. most humans that go down those stairs don't come back up. you'll be fine, though.”

You squinted at him, sticking the note to the front of your manila envelope after glancing at it and putting B's letter back inside as well (through the dark room, around a corner, and down a flight of stairs... it was likely their own choice, but was it really good for the most unstable monsters to be locked away in the basement?), and he shrugged nonchalantly, smiling crookedly and scratching the back of his neck.

“you're here for a heat. not even they're in a bloodthirsty mood, not when “love” is in the air. besides, blood is from a fell-verse; he's not gonna let you get hurt when he has a chance to breed.”

You supposed that made sense, at least when it involved Blood... Fell Sanses were pretty well known to be insatiable when it came to sex, but even more well known for their love of breeding. Perhaps you should have suspected Blood hadn't lost that desire, even when his sane mind had mostly fled him... that was something that was as much part of him as his heavy accent and his gold tooth.

Guess there hadn't been a point in setting up your will after all.

Some part of you wanted to be disappointed, robbed of the morbid fantasies you'd been having these past few weeks, but another, larger part was overshadowing it, something just as instinctual as your partner's need to mate and put into overdrive by the magic in the air... you _wanted_ him to breed you, so much you could feel the desire overcoming nearly every other thought in your head, flooding your veins with a need that made Comic scoot quickly away from you in B's rolling chair, his hands clenched forcefully on the arms of the chair and his expression fierce in restraint.

You whispered an apology, your cheeks flushing at the belated realization that he had probably smelled your rush of desire, but he scoffed in dismissal, smiling tightly at you and wiping the back of his hand over his again saturated forehead.

“heh... no sweat, kid. i'd say break a leg, but... you know, try not to do that.”

You chuckled dryly, promising that you wouldn't (he looked amused but unconvinced, which didn't encourage you at all), and set off through the lobby and into the lounge's main floor, looking around at the cavernous, empty space as you traversed it towards the dark room, the section of the lounge where the monsters of voracious and varying appetites dwelt. You'd have felt far more alone and nervous if you hadn't had your own pounding heart for company, beating so loud and hard it filled your ears and narrowed your field of vision.

You nearly tripped over the sign that warned not to enter the dark room without a release form (huh... you hadn't signed one. B must be really sure you'd survive...), in your distraction, rounding it and the velvet rope separating the shadowy space from the rest of the floor, but with a few calming breaths, you managed to get through the dark without falling over anything. The stairs were easy to find, hidden behind one of two dark paneled doors (the other must be Nightmare's, firmly shut and labeled with a sign declaring it off limits), and though you missed two steps in your excitement on your way down, you made it to the basement relatively safely.

You immediately felt unsafe as you stepped onto the landing, though; the basement, a large, rounded room filled with various sex machines and studded around its edges with doors leading, surely, to bedrooms was being stalked by enough large, voracious monsters to make it feel like a cage at the zoo, only made more apt by the way they all immediately eyed you. Smirks and beckoning, heated gazes abounded, the magic as heavy in the air as fog thickening as every monster present registered human prey, and you staggered under its weight, falling backwards against the bottom step of the stairs. The closest monster, a gangling, staring version of G you were fairly certain was named Grim, stalked even closer to you, hunching down over you in a way that was reminiscent of a hunting spider and grinning at you through crooked teeth that made your skin crawl.

His hands hovered over your thighs, twitching and clawing the air, a trail of putrid, ocher drool dripping from his mouth and to the carpet between your legs.

“Hey there sweetmeat... looking for some company?”

You couldn't think of anything to say. You could barely breathe, under the duress of his potent, desperate magic... you couldn't put enough thoughts together to form a complaint. You could barely move, only capable of watching, with a detached form of dizziness, as his hands grew closer and closer to touching you, his form bending over yours further, almost completely ensconcing you in his shadow-

And then a clawed, cracked hand the size of a trashcan lid closed around his neck, dragging him not only off of you, but into the air as well, his expression immediately twisting into an enraged snarl. He was thrown bodily away from you, fully into a likewise staring Horror's chest, and the two immediately turned on each other with ravenous, furious growls, the ferocity of their fight knocking over several machines and gaining the attention of the other monsters in the room.

You didn't even have a chance to see your savior's face. You were scooped up into massive arms, pressed into the embrace of a warm, furred coat, and hurried away from the gathering crowd of hooting and snarling monsters, jostled here and there by the speed of his escape and heated to near combustion by the warmth of his bones and his scent both. A door opened and slammed shut, the sound of various locks being done up filled the air, and then... there was stillness, only the quick rise and fall of your savior's ribcage and the pounding of your heart moving at all.

You could think now, freed from the ocean of want that had been the central room outside the door, and as the fullness of the situation finally rolled over you, you let out a quiet sob, clinging to his ribs through his sweater and curling further into a ball. Your entire body shook, only more when a large but gentle hand took yours, to pry them away from his shirt so he could remove you from the safety of his jacket, and you whimpered at being removed from his embrace when he set you on the edge of what could only be a bed, hugging your knees and burying your face in them.

The large monster that had come to your rescue huffed quietly, at that, his hand smoothing over your head and ruffling your hair (claws carded through the length, more soothing than it should have been), settling his bulk onto the bed at your side and enfolding you in the embrace of his massive arm again. He was so large the bed sank _significantly_ under his weight, rolling you sideways against him, and he let out a familiar chortle at the sight of you scrambling to stay upright, moving you from your perch and into his wide lap with an ease that would have stunned you if you weren't immediately distracted by the curve of an enormous erection pressing against you through his pants.

You cracked your eyes open finally as he arranged you so you wouldn't fall again, his chest thrumming with contentment and his hands exploratory and unabashed, and glanced up to look on the face of the only one it could be, to find the shattered, terrifying, but utterly contented visage of Blood. His deathtrap of a mouth, lined with razor fangs and gold, was tilted up into a soft smile, his shattered socket empty and his whole one lit by the magic of his more stable mind, and as you looked up at him, he raised a hand to your face to stroke away some of your tears, his other smoothing down your spine.

“s'alright... you're safe now. y'ain't gotta worry 'bout them, baby doll... i won't let'tem near ya again.”

There was utter surety in his rumbling voice, not an ounce of worry for your safety in his care anywhere on his face or in his posture, and despite the instinctual warning in the back of your mind that whispered that  _he_ should be the one to fear, you relaxed, letting his comfort and his magic wash over you and sweep away your worries and your cares. For the first time in what felt like an age, your heartbeat slowed, appeased by his manner and the drug that was the scent of his pheromones, and he outright  _purred_ at the feeling of you relaxing in his arms.

He reached out, in your peripheral, and pushed what looked like a picture frame face down on his bedside table; you wanted to be curious, but you couldn't seem to tear your mind away from him and his touch and the feeling of him ensnaring your every sense.

“that's right... ain't gotta be scared. 's jus' me... me an' you...”

You felt like a doll in his enormous hands, moved here and there at his whim and wont; he shifted you from his lap and to the mussed sheets on his bed like he was moving a pillow, arranging you so he could crawl over your prone form with ease, and you didn't even hesitate to spread your legs for him, welcoming him to settle against you fully... wanting to feel the length of him pressed between your thighs again.

He did so with a pleased growl rattling his ribs (gods he was enormous...), bending to snuffle at your throat in a way that made you giggle and squirm under him, and he laughed as well, though both ceased when his jaw parted and his slithering, sinuous tongue spilled from it like a slick of rich blood, laving over your throat and your quickening pulse desirously.

Your laughter became a raspy moan, your hands fisting in the sleeves of his jacket and your legs clenching around his wide, thick hipbones, and his own hand clenched in the sheets beside your head; you could hear them rip to shreds with just that one motion, a spring inside the mattress whining at the pressure, and something cold ran through your blood, a note of clarity that brought into sudden, sharp relief the extremity of his physical strength.

It was gone the very next moment, though, the moment his free hand dragged along your body to grope at your curves, and you felt his jagged, bear trap of a smile sharpen against your throat as he did, his arousal twitching powerfully between your thighs.

“so small... so soft... an' all mine...”

You whimpered as his hand pulled at your clothes, exposing you more and more with every second; you wanted to help him, so more of your flesh could meet the burning expanse of his bones (it hurt so good, you desperately wanted his teeth to sink into your shoulder, his claws to rend more than cloth- what?), but he didn't allow it, taking your wrists easily into one palm and holding them over your head to keep them out of the way.

“s'alright, sugar. 'm gonna take good care a ya. so good you'll never wanna leave me.”

You shuddered at the gravity of his voice, and squealed quietly at the prick of one of his teeth breaking your skin; his entire body tensed, as the taste of your blood met his tongue, and in his shattered socket, the floating orb of his madness ignited like the head of a flame, washing the room as red as his namesake. You trembled at the sight, drawing back slightly, but his hands firmed on you the moment you even twitched, on the edge of pain.

His skull pulled back, locking your gaze with his, and his grin stretched beyond the point of madness.

“ _ **ever.**_ ”

* * *


	21. A Little Drop of Poison (UT Sans Lamia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curious creatures, lamias... 
> 
> And you find yourself more curious than is likely advisable.
> 
> *UT Sans Lamia*

* * *

Anonymous said:

Ohhhhh u do lamias! Can I spend heat season wit venom? :)

* * *

You'd been expecting a lot of things, when you'd let yourself into the Banana Lounge for your stint of the heat season. Being immediately tackled by an amorous lamia was high on that list.

Comic lying on the carpet in front of the reception desk looking like he'd been stranded in a desert wasn't on it at all.

He was panting heavily, sockets squeezed shut and clawed fingers dug into the carpet, as though to keep himself in place; he was sweating so heavily that he'd removed his trademark jacket, his white sweater stained with the cerulean of his magic as his heat clearly engulfed him.

He jolted, at the sound of you drawing nearer, and parted his sockets enough to peer up at you groggily, blinking several times before smiling, open mouthed, and throwing one of his arms over his once again closed sockets, as though looking at you had been as painful as looking directly at the sun.

“sup, kid? you... gah... how's it hangin?”

His voice was strained and gruff, his jaw gritting as he spoke and the hand still dug into the carpet digging in further, and, alarmed, you neglected his polite query to ask after his own health. He wasn't looking so good... but he laughed you off, terse and haggard as the laughter was, a line of sweat dripping from his jaw and onto the floor.

“oh, heh... just getting a little hard to be around so many... wanting humans... thought i could handle it, but... _fuck me_... i gotta step away for a bit.”

Upon saying so, he shakily removed his arm from his face, shoved himself up from the ground with a grunt, and, almost as an afterthought, flicked a hand at the surface of the desk. One of the large manila envelopes set on top was illuminated with the glow of his magic, for a moment, enough to levitate it from the desk and into your hands, and, with his task completed, Comic quickly shuffled away from you and towards the door to B's private office, looking like every step he took was as taxing as holding up the sky.

“that should get you where you need to go- make sure you follow the instructions closely, you don't wanna end up in the wrong room down there.”

Huh... down there. You supposed that meant you'd be heading to the basement... you should have suspected, you guessed, it _was_ where the large monsters usually slept. You watched Comic stagger away with concern as you unsealed your envelope, despite your intent on being there, and wondered, aloud, if he needed any help. He only chuckled ruefully, though, something bitter in the cant of his tight smile, and shook his head, pushing open B's office door and leaning on the doorjamb heavily.

“that's sweet, babe, but don't worry about me too much. i'm... hah... i'll take it too personally and let myself feel flattered, heh. get goin'. i'll be fine.”

He said no more, pushing himself through the door and all but slamming it shut behind himself, and you stared at its back for a second, quirking your lips to the side, before shrugging, allowing him his solitude, and beginning your trek to the myth monsters' basement, pulling out and reading the letter B had left you as you did so. Comic's plight faded from your mind all too soon, consumed with the excitement of seeing your monstrous lover and helping him sate his desires.

You'd never been with one of his ilk before, far too nervous to ever make the attempt in the past, and your anticipation and curiosity burned as fiercely as your lust did with every step nearer that you took (the fierce, more primal monsters' magic was thick in the air even on the main floor, you could feel it overtaking your senses with every breath), following the directions in the letter to find your way through the large monsters' lounge, down the stairs, and along the hallway that led to their holding chambers.

Venom's was purposed to be the third on the left, the key within your envelope unlocking the large iron door that secured him within, and once you had found yourself inside, carefully sliding the door shut behind you, you found yourself in a large, moodily dim, humid room lined with flowering plants. Loamy soil compressed under your feet, the smell of greenery and damp stone and heat magic filled your head, and the sound of running water and the clank of a chain reached your ears.

There was a shallow pool sunk into the floor at the center of the room, clear blue water trickling into it from a waterfall set into one of the walls, and behind it, curled on a large rock in a beam of false sun and watching you intently, was your mate-to-be, his slitted, azure gaze pinning you where you stood instantaneously. A forked tongue flicked at the air between sharpened fangs, scenting you from across the room, and his glistening, thick coils loosened from the tension they had gathered at your sudden entrance, shining sapphire and silver under the light he reposed in.

His smile was wide and welcoming as he rose from the defensive ball he had sunk into, his scales throwing glittering light across the walls of the room with innate enchantment, the same enchantment that thickened the air with his want.

“ _finally_.”

His hiss was quiet, barely audible above the fall of water from his waterfall, but you heard him as clearly as though he had shouted beside your ear, your heart thrumming like a hummingbird's wing. You swallowed against the tightness of your throat, your knees wobbling as he uncoiled himself further (he... he was huge, easily fifteen feet long from head to tail, with hands as big as your whole head), but nothing, from his intense, burning gaze to his flickering tongue to his overwhelming, intoxicating scent, could have kept you from walking closer to him, the toes of your shoes catching against plants and small rocks unheeded.

You asked, in such a small voice that you were certain it came out sounding like a squeak, if you had kept him waiting long (you hadn't meant to... was he displeased? You didn't want that...), but he only let out a dry, rasping chuckle, unfurling himself fully for your viewing pleasure and smiling invitingly.

“probably not, lover... but time doesn't have much meaning when you're trapped underground, and all you can think about is mating.”

You supposed that made sense, and you laughed along with him, smiling back with the half a mind you retained in his presence (were all of the myths this overwhelming in their heats, or was it just him? You couldn't think of anything but falling into his arms, letting him wrap you in his coils and keep you forever...), and as you rounded his pool, a spray of rich soil falling into it from your nearness, your eyes were caught by the choker of metal around his throat, dull in comparison to the shine of his scales. It was attached to a thick, inscribed chain, leading backwards towards the vegetation laden wall behind him, and you frowned at the sight of it, nodding at it and asking why he was restrained.

A note of panic flooded through you at the sight of his sharp smirk, at the roll of laughter that rattled his thick ribs.

“heh... it's for you and the other humans' safety, precious. beasts like me, closer to our monstrous natures, are capable of mating very quickly and very efficiently... and the call of our magic makes resistance unlikely. it's better to restrain us so no one gets carried away... or ends up going out and breeding an entire city block.”

He seemed highly amused by his reasoning, but at the very least looked unbothered by the requirement that he be restrained, and your momentary worry melted away until you couldn't even recall it had been there at all, your shoes slipping a little as you attempted to climb his sunning rock. His tail extended to help you up, smooth and hot under your hand, and as you scrambled up to his level, you asked, with wry laughter edging your voice, if that had ever happened or if it was just a hypothetical.

“it did, yeah, 'bout... three heats ago? one of the gaster beasts escaped and made himself a whole slew of pups, ha.”

You raised your brows, curious and alarmed by the circumstances (that must have been a mess to handle... no wonder they had to wear chains and be locked up like this...), but Venom seemed disinclined to carry on the conversation any longer, large, clawed hands descending to scoop you off your feet and into his thick boned arms the moment you were within reach.

“but less about them... and more about us, yeah?”

He immediately bent his face to inhale deeply at the arch of your throat, his breath a furnace and his bared bones an inferno, and once he was satisfied with filling himself with your scent, his hands smoothing over your body until you writhed in his grasp, he turned from his rock and glided easily into the shadows beyond it, the coolness of the misty air at war with the heat of his magic and his desire.

There was a narrow path that led down into the vegetation, well hidden and dark, and at its end was a culvert pressed into the soil... a snake pit, lined with soft things and clearly designed for the purpose of breeding. He bent close to press his face to your throat again, while you inspected it from his arms, his tongue flicking against you skin and making you shiver with delighted stimulation.

“i have everything prepared... you'll want for nothing, while we mate. ...perhaps you won't sleep as much as you like, but there's no rest for the wicked, or so i hear, heh.”

You laughed distractedly, at his turn of phrase, though it was cut short by a gasp of pleasure as his hands ventured under your clothing; you didn't even notice him slithering his way into the nest, his hands were so skilled and adventurous. You only came to the awareness of your surroundings again when your bare back was pressed into a pile of pillows, his ribs laid against your chest and your lips kissing desperately to the line of his fangs... his coils wrapped around and between your spread legs.

The pillows were soft, even if they were just a little damp from the persistent moisture of Venom's preferred climate... but you had better things to think about, namely the heat of the magic surging through your monstrous lover, slowly emerging from the length of his tail to drag against your abdomen.

“your kind say two is better than one, don't they pet?”

His mouth tilted up again into a teasing smile as he gloried in your wanting kisses, his coils tightening around you to hold you in place... to press his twin lengths against you harder, their tapered tips teasing your entrance.

“let's see if you agree~”

* * *


	22. You Can't Spell Breed Without Red (UF Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with him...
> 
> And he plans on taking advantage of that to the fullest.
> 
> *UF Sans*

* * *

venelona said:

Oh heck why not, we only live once. If there's still place for heat season I'll sign up. Red, Mob or Trigger, come at me

* * *

You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised to see the hulking form of Red leaning against the wall outside the lounge when you arrived, a cigarette simmering between his fangs and the ruff of his furred coat swaying in the autumn breeze... he never really was one to wait, or to beat around the bush. You'd heard that the quarantine had been particularly hard on him and his bad temper, as well, likely lending even greater urgency to his need for company, and with that in mind, you sped your steps along the sidewalk, smiling at him brightly and eagerly when his gaze snapped up from the screen of his phone and to your approaching form.

Your smile was mirrored on his face, crooked but just as excited, and he stowed his phone in a jacket pocket as he pushed himself away from the wall, flicking his burnt down cigarette at the ashtray he'd been standing beside. He reached you in two long, heavy steps, sweeping you into his arms in a single motion that nearly stole your breath away (you'd almost forgotten how strong he was), and then stole it away entirely with a deep, consuming kiss, his tongue surging past your lips the moment you gasped and his hands arranging you so your legs wrapped around his hipbones and his palms held the fullness of your ass.

You felt his overheated bones rumble with satisfaction at the contact, squeezing your captured flesh and smirking against your lips, and when he pulled back, his tongue slurping back between his teeth lewdly, the smirk didn't fade in the least, the magic burning in his sockets meeting your gaze with a surety and a fondness that heated your blood even more than his groping hands, or the hardness pressed between your legs.

His chest rumbled again, his gold tooth catching the light of the sun as his smile grew and his sockets hooded amorously.

“y'got no idea how glad i am to see ya, sugar.”

He had turned on the heel of his sneaker and teleported you into what could only be his bedroom (there was a pervasive scent of stale nicotine and whiskey overlaying everything, saying nothing of the posters of naked women lounging on the hoods of cars all over the walls) before you could even draw another breath, and had you pressed back against the wall beside his firmly shut and locked door the next moment, riding you up on one knee to free his hands.

They were buried beneath your shirt a second later, his face pressed to your throat, nipping your flesh and washing hot, humid breaths of want along your neck, and you couldn't have kept from moaning if you'd wanted to, clinging to his broad shoulders as best you could while he bent his every skill to making you writhe for him. He had undeniable talent in it, every press of his thick, searing bones to your skin enough to send stars wheeling across your vision, and he seemed to glory in the sounds and motions you made, a trail of saliva wending down his jaw and his arousal pulsing against the apex of your thighs as he rolled his hips against you needily.

He growled, low in his chest, when you ground back against him, pulling his face from your throat to stare, panting and sweating profusely, into your eyes.

“stars fuck me... i needja bad, baby girl-”

He carried you to his bed and threw you onto it so quickly your head spun, bouncing slightly on the sunken, unmade mattress. He grunted apologetically at the sound of distress you let out, his eagerness fading a notch, and when he mounted the bed to kneel over you, rearranging you so he could easily undress you (where... where had your shirt gone? You'd been wearing it a second ag... was that it on the ceiling fan?), his motions were much more gentle and controlled, though you could feel his hands shaking as he unbuttoned your pants.

“sorry, sweetness... gettin' a little bit carried away. i ain't had company in what feels like fuckin' years... no one but the chucklefucks 'round here, at least. thank fuck this shit'll be over soon.”

Over soon? That was news to you, and you said as much, assisting him in sliding both your pants and your underwear off (he'd grasped them both at once in the curl of his clawed thumbs, more than used to efficiency in his undressing), and he shrugged one massive shoulder as he threw the articles of clothing onto the floor uncaringly, his gaze on your bared flesh and his tongue running over his fangs excitedly.

“yeah, b's gonna finish the quarantine stuff she's got already, an' then open us back up. 'bout fuckin' time, too.”

He glanced up at you meaningfully, at the same moment as he delved his fingers between your legs, finding your entrance and filling you with his thick phalanges before you even registered the motion. You whined at the sudden rush of pleasure, his fingers pressing and stroking in all the right ways to make your legs tremble, and he smirked, in the near darkness, his free hand rising to fondle your chest and bring an all new keen to your moans.

“missed gettin' ta see my sweethearts, havin' hot little humans ta bury my dick in...”

You clung to his arms as he stroked you to readiness, your toes curling even more as he leaned forward to slather his overheated tongue over your chest as well (you were thrashing so much that you were certain another, weaker monster would have been thrown off of you, but Red didn't budge, seeming to only get more excited from your wriggling), and he gave no quarter even when he brought you to riotous orgasm, riding you through it and pushing you towards another with a broad grin on his face... the sound of your wetness echoing around the room to join your wails of pleasure in a chorus that never seemed to end.

“sounds like ya need it 's much as i do... heh.”

He didn't stop until you'd climaxed for him twice more, and even then, he only pulled back far enough to shove his own clothes out of the way, throwing his jacket over his shoulder unceremoniously and pushing his shorts down beneath the curve of his erection. He looked enormous, certainly more than you could normally take, but he'd done his preparation well... he slid home with an ease that stole your breath even more than his hard, lustful kiss, holding your hips close as he settled against you.

He groaned into the kiss rapturously, his bones rattling with the effort he was spending to keep from rutting into you desperately, and pulled back to lock his gaze with yours, a string of scarlet saliva stretching from his extended tongue to your bottom lip. You whimpered, when he bucked against you and shifted inside you, your legs locking around his hips and your grip tightening on his shoulders, and he grinned sloppily in response.

“now let's get ya knocked up proper, babycakes. y'know red's the way ta go...'s why you're here.”

His thick tongue swept across your parted lips, just as his hips circled in the embrace of your thighs, teasing you with the promise of all that was to come.

“don'tcha worry, little mama... i gotcha covered.”

* * *


	23. Whispers in the Dark (HT Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horror had a reputation that far preceded him...
> 
> You knew he was far more than that, though.
> 
> *Horrortale Sans*

* * *

black-wolf-spirit said:

400g for HT Sans or Classic :3

* * *

This was honestly the first time a set of stairs had frightened you.

You looked at the dark wood steps as they descended into the darkness below with trepidation (why were they so dark... ah. Someone had taken all the light-bulbs out of the lamps on the walls), swallowing heavily and clutching the envelope in your hands so hard it wrinkled. It sounded like some of the monsters below were fighting, likely caught up in their unsatiated heats, and the sounds, combined with the lack of light, the overpowering scent of male monsters in heat, and the infamous dark room at your back unsettled you far more than you had been anticipating.

Your resolve faltered, for a moment, your knees shaking and your spine crumbling (B had promised you'd be okay in your letter, but you weren't so sure...), but before you could retreat, before you could give in to the instinct that begged you to flee, you recalled your promise.

Horror was waiting for you, down below... you had said you would help him, and it wasn't part of who you were to renege on a promise made. He would never forgive you if you did, for one thing... you knew how much they meant to him. It would leave him without relief, for another, and while you were certain he would survive it... well. Hadn't he suffered enough already?

With that in mind, you firmed your back, set your jaw, and tramped loudly down the stairs, fully announcing your approach to any who cared to hear it. It seemed to work, too; the snarling and clashing halted almost immediately, a silence almost as chilling falling in its stead, and when you reached the landing of the stairs, you found every socket in the dark basement fixed on you rabidly.

You didn't let that stop you, spotting Horror standing silently near the rounded wall beside the stairs and heading towards him quickly (his overlarge, scarlet iris flared, his unnatural, static grin spreading wider), and though most of the other monsters let out sounds of disappointment and went back to their former activities, Grim, following along in your shadow, seemed not to get the picture, tsking a dusky purple tongue against the backs of his hideous teeth and, quite daringly, touching the fall of your hair.

“You really wasting your money on him, sweetmeat? He's gone soft... he's not gonna give you what you really want.”

Horror bristled at that, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you against him and baring his teeth at the other monster warningly; you could feel his bones shaking in an attempt to restrain his protective anger, his fingers digging a little too hard into your hip as he tried to hold himself back.

“why don't you go fuck yourself in a corner before i cut your dick off.”

The demented G was unmoved, however, cocking a cracked brow and fingering the hatchet attached to his belt, and bent to stare into your eyes, so close you could smell his fetid breath.

“Rather fuck the little lamb here~”

He'd gone too far. Horror flung you around his body and behind himself quickly enough to jar you neck, his broad shoulders hunched and his stance wide protectively, and seized the slim monster by the throat, picking him up off the ground and slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack it. He snarled furiously in his face, the deep blue foam of his saliva flecking Grim's cheekbones.

“ _ **mine**_.”

You hadn't come here to see a murder, and you doubted very much B would thank Horror for it, either... much as you disliked Grim's pushiness, you didn't really want him to die, and you rounded your mate-to-be to grab onto his arm, pulling on it and whispering that it wasn't worth it. It almost seemed like you were speaking to him from across an ocean, the sound of your voice barely reaching him through the storm of his fury... but his grip eventually slackened, the flaming redness of his blown out iris fading and his posture loosening.

He allowed you to drag him away from the glaring monster rubbing his neck, seeming almost numb as you led him to... well, you hoped the door with his axe imbedded in it was his bedroom, and pulled him into it before shutting and locking the door behind you both, letting the stillness settle over both of you before leading him to the messy bed pushed against the far wall.

He sat on it heavily, the frame groaning under his weight (was... was it going to survive your time together? You seriously doubted it), and you perched beside him, slipping your hand into his larger one and just... leaning against his side, saying nothing at all. He knew you were there, as he stared forward in silence, seeing and saying nothing... his hand squeezed yours, even if he didn't acknowledge you in any other way.

It was enough, for now. He was a damaged person, you knew that all too well, and you could wait.

You'd nearly fallen asleep against him, soothed by the gentle rise and fall of his rib cage, the softness of his stained jacket, and the warmth of his bones, before he stirred, his hand twitching in your grasp and his skull tilting to the side, his scarlet iris rolling through his head to stare down at you consideringly, as though trying to remember who you were. It took another long moment, as you blinked up at him sleepily, for him to catch up with the situation, but when he did, his stiff, automatic smile softened, the intense brightness of his gaze dimming as it hooded in recognition.

He shifted further back, on the edge of the bed, settling himself more comfortably, and pulled you gently into his lap, his large hands settling on your hips as you automatically moved to straddle his legs. He bent forward to press his forehead to yours, his sockets closing entirely, and his breath washed over your parted lips as you waited for him, your hands settled lightly on his broad chest.

His smile twisted, at one corner, when he leaned back, and his sockets were darker when he reopened them, his face turning away in something almost resembling shame.

“sorry 'bout that, pumpkin... wouldn't know how to take a hint if it hit 'em in the face with an axe, heh.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat, the laugh in his voice just as empty and unenthused, and your brows lowered in concern, one hand rising to stroke his jaw comfortingly as you easily dismissed his apology, telling him he didn't have to be sorry for something he couldn't control.

He scoffed at that, though, his expression hardening and his hands on your hips squeezing.

“no... i do. i shouldn't've snapped like that, 's not what you're here for.”

His skull lowered in a self-depreciating nod, shaking side to side, before he looked back at you from the corner of his socket, the tightened bone of his brow softening as his gaze flicked over your face.

“it's just... very rare, that i get a chance to do this, and the thought of losing it...”

You asked what he meant, your hand unmoving from the side of his face besides the stroke of your thumb over his cheekbone (he seemed to be enjoying the contact, nuzzling into the palm of your hand almost unconsciously... just how touch starved was this poor monster?), and he chuckled ruefully, one of his hands moving from your hip and to your abdomen.

“to breed. most of the people that come see me don't expect to live... so they don't. i kinda like the thought of... y'know. having a kid. maybe seeing 'em, after.”

That was... it wasn't what you'd have expected of him. You knew most male monsters were happy to breed, and that your partner was happy to have company... but you suppose you hadn't really considered the thought that... this might be his first time being able to see the fruits of his labors to maturity. It made your heart throb, to think of how often he had to destroy his partners afterwards, because it was what they wanted of him, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

You sniffled, leaning your head against his shoulder, and asked him if he really liked doing this... if he actually didn't want to be the kind of monster that people thought he was. He stiffened for a moment, his breathing ceasing entirely, before he let out a long sigh, his arms rising to hug you against his chest. He was so warm, almost overwhelmingly so, but you had no desire to move, not even when he let you both fall backwards onto the bed, laying you across his chest and rubbing your back as soothingly as he was able to.

“i don't mind it. 's fun, and fucking is always good, whether they live or not. guy can want more than that though, y'know?”

You did know, and you sat up in his lap, smiling tearfully down at him and nodding. He smiled back, clearly appreciative of the quiet moment of understanding... his hands stroking over your thighs and his gaze brightening as he called to his magic. His shorts, between your thighs, stiffened, his thick length forming rapidly, and when you rolled your hips against it, shooting him a meaningful, excited grin, his own smile quirked hungrily, his flaming iris lowering to watch your hands undoing the strings on his shorts.

“i knew you'd get it.”

* * *


	24. Comic's Condition (UT Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comic is in a bit of a tough spot~
> 
> *UT Sans*

* * *

rin-helios asked: Oh my, poor comic looks miserable v.v if B and the boys are ok with it I can manage the front for a bit. I don't mind since I'm not sure I can do much more for now on cleaning the lobby :)

* * *

You’d honestly never seen him look more grateful, when he answered B’s office door at your knock and listened to your appeal. He collapsed back onto the still folded sleeper couch within, an arm thrown over his sockets and his feet up on the arm. He wasn’t looking much better than he did when he first retreated into the office, sweat-stained and weary and trembling so hard his bones rattled, but the idea that he wouldn’t have to attend to any more patrons until his own arrived seemed to take a weight off of his shoulders.

He smiled at you from beneath the cover of the arm thrown across his face, chest rising and falling heavily as he panted.

“thanks, babe… you have no idea how much i need a break. been running myself ragged… too much stress, on top of everything else.”

His voice was as haggard as he looked, tinged with strain and a deep-seated want that could be answered only by drowning his lusts in the sins of the flesh, and you did your best to keep your voice even as you told him not to worry about it, your eyes purposefully averted from the incredibly obvious tent in the front of his stained shorts, breaths short in an attempt to breathe in as little of his potent magic as possible.

Looked like he was having a real hard (pffff) time.

He grunted quietly to stop you, as you turned to attend to your new, self-appointed duty, and was peeking at you from beneath his arm when you turned to see why, his sockets heated as he looked over your uniform and the body beneath it.

“so uh… you don’t have anyone requested for the season, right? just here for work?”

You replied in the negative, lifting and then again lowering your feather duster to give evidence of how you’d intended to spend the rut, and his smile, lazy and tight, quirked upwards into a heated smirk, his sockets flaring and his position shifting. The magical pheromones in the air thickened, as he sat up and pinned you with his wanting stare, dragging it again, slowly, hopefully, along your body.

“think you might be interested in… heh, throwing me a bone?”

He sent you a wink as he spoke, jerking his chin towards his more than obvious arousal, and let out a rumbling, almost growling chuckle at the sight of your blush, the tip of his tongue running along the top row of his teeth. You were making no move to approach, only clinging to your feather duster and biting at your lower lip in thought… but you weren’t leaving either, your eyes darting downwards continuously, and he took that as a very good sign.

He leaned back against the couch arm at his back, grinning lazily and running his palm along his length through his shorts, watching your eyes follow the motion and your blush spread further.

“ten minutes, presh… just a quickie. you can spare me ten minutes, can’t you~”

* * *


	25. The King's Court (UF Lamia Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd left the choice of your mate up to B... and she'd placed you in the very capable hands of a king~
> 
> *Underfell Sans Lamia*

* * *

Dot lifts a paper with the heat application to B, looking down nervously. "Uhm... if there is any spot I would g-gladly take it." She says, trying to look brave. The archivist wanted something exciting to happen for once in her life, and helping the monster population getting bigger would be a good way to do it! Even though she was rather lazy and liked to take nails she was diligent with her work, and she hoped B would like her application. - Here is my application.

* * *

The lobby was completely deserted, as you let yourself into it and made your way over the front desk; several large envelopes were laid out on top, one of which bore your name (you took it in hand, weighing it and wondering at which monster you had been paired with), and you looked around a little bit, humming to yourself and picking through the basket of condoms on the desk before opening the envelope and reading the letter within.

King, huh… you weren’t sure which monster that was, but B was known to have good taste in recommendations (came from trying all the monsters out yourself, you presumed). As such, you trusted her word that he was exactly what you were looking for, giddy with excitement, and turned the letter over to follow the map that had been drawn onto the back obediently.

You made to follow it, meandering around the desk and towards the open lounge doors, just as a long, pleasured moan leaked through the office door behind the desk. You paused as a growling chuckle followed close behind, your cheeks flushing as you realized what you were overhearing, and hurried your footsteps to give the pair indulging in the office some time to themselves.

The map on the letter led you out onto the empty lounge floor, through the myth monsters’ abandoned rest area, and down a set of stairs towards one section of the basement, a long hall lined with several others and numerous, shut doors. The very large, iron door at the end of the main hall led to yet another long hallway… but this one was alive with the sounds of monstrous beings, hidden just out of sight and anxious to be set free. The air was heavy with their want and the thick magic of their heat, addling your mind and making you sway as though drunk, stumbling along the hall and towards the door that was marked as the residence of your mate-to-be.

The howls and snarls of the monsters grew almost deafening, the magic in the air enticing you more and more, as you forced yourself to continue past their doors (it was getting harder and harder to go on and resist with every step you took; the door that was your target felt a million miles away), the instinct to submit yourself to the very next creature that you stumbled upon nearly impossible to ignore, but reach your destination you did, and though you fumbled with the large key that had come along with your letter, you managed to let yourself in with a sigh of relief and your back pressed to the cool iron, taking a moment to regain your breath.

The hall you had just left had been dim, almost moody in its lighting, but the enclosure you had entered was far brighter, the heat of UV bulbs working to warm your already overheated and sweaty skin, so pervasive their glow bled through your closed eyelids. You scrunched your brows, trying to block it out, but gave up after a moment to peer at the room that would be your residence for the next two weeks… and stared.

The room had been fashioned into a desert landscape, sand, large rocks, and several cacti covering the floor space. A crystalline pool was sunk into one corner of the room, surrounded by palm trees that rose to scrape at the ceiling, and the walls were painted to resemble the startling beauty of a desert sunset.

Atop one of the large rocks, apparently having been sunning himself beneath one of the bulbs, sat a very large, black, red, and yellow hued (what was it that you’d heard about exotic snakes… the more brightly colored they were, the more toxic they were?) lamia, his hood spread intimidatingly and his tail rattling warningly at the suddenness of your entrance. He was settling from his shock, though, charcoal hued bones losing some of their tension, scales sliding against stone as he uncoiled… a welcoming, handsome smile spreading across his face, the intense scarlet of the magic in his sockets locking with your eyes immovably.

You… you couldn’t look away from his gaze either, enraptured by the way it sunk into your mind inescapably, loosening your own surprised and tensed muscles, filling you with a warmth entirely different from the one that emanated from the bulbs overhead and the sand underfoot-

When had you started walking? You were halfway across the room, your bag of clothes forgotten and abandoned beside the door, a dopey smile on your lips and his clever, sharp face filling your sight and your mind, even the sand leaking into your shoes and the lust leaking from between your thighs a far off consideration.

You were in his arms the next time you blinked, curled against the scorching heat of his bones and settled on the thick expanse of his scaled tail; you’d lost your top and your shoes, somewhere along the way, his large, clawed hands smoothing over your skin tantalizingly… his tongue flickered to taste you on the air, bending to lap at your throat and make you writhe sluggishly in his embrace.

“good girl…” he purred there, encouraging you to wrap your arms around his neck as his coils twisted and turned and shifted to wrap around you securely (your pants were gone now, too, any underwear you weren’t sure you’d been wearing in the first place conspicuously absent), the thickest section of his trunk slipping between your legs at the same moment that two of his claws dipped into your entrance, and you let out a sound you knew you’d never made before as he did, something so desperate and wanting that you flushed with humiliation to have it escape your lips.

What was happening? You’d intended to talk to him a little first, find out what sort of monster you’d be bearing children for, but here you were within only moments of even seeing him, spread wantonly in his embrace and moaning loud enough to hurt your throat as he sank his fingers into you to the knuckle. You kept losing moments in time, as though your mind was wandering and not your own… when had he started kissing you? When had he moved you into the shade of a den hidden beneath one of the rocks? You could feel your climax approaching, even though he’d only been inside you for about ten seconds…

You were confused even as your mind fogged with pleasure, as his tongue danced with yours and his hands worked your body masterfully into a writhing mess. You squirmed in an attempt to try to center yourself in the moment, desperate not to miss anything else, but the giant snake monster shushed you the same moment as, on the brink of orgasm, he removed his fingers and slid you onto the long, tapered lengths of his dual cocks, filling you entirely and hissing beneath his breath as you squeezed around him instinctively.

“don’t struggle… ain’t gonna hurtcha. jus’ givin’ ya what ya came here for” he promised in a heated undertone as you fell apart in his hands, his coils spreading your legs far apart, his hands supporting your weight as he surged into you rapturously, the burning scarlet of his gaze never leaving yours even as you came for him, as your body clenched and pulsed and rocked in time with the most ancient dance known to both man and monster. You trusted him implicitly, reached for him to kiss the processes of his vertebrae and clung to him as he made you his without hesitance nor questioning, begged for him to spill himself within you and sate the desperate heat that radiated from him in waves. He only chuckled, and winked a single, hypnotizing socket, and rubbed a thumb against your clit until you wailed for him and clenched around him rapturously.

“patience, pet. we got all tha time in tha world ta… how did ya say it?”

His smile was wicked and lascivious even as he pretended to think, his gaze, for the first time, breaking from yours to travel to the expanse of your bared abdomen, one hand smoothing over it almost worshipfully.

“grow tha monster population~”

* * *


	26. Tied Up In You (Underlust Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your time with Lust is finally here~
> 
> *Underlust Sans*

* * *

Killernekochan asked: *slides over the money* how about some Lust for the heat season?~

* * *

Your hands shook as you let yourself into the building that housed the Banana Lounge, giddy anticipation and more than a little desire twisting in your belly at the thought of what awaited you. Lust was well known for his amorous nature on an almost constant basis… you had no idea what his heat would do to him in that regard, and you couldn’t wait to find out.

Biting your lower lip and twining your fingers together before you, you walked quickly to the empty reception desk, looking curiously over the assortment of large envelopes left out on top of it just as, from behind Fresh’s section of the desk, B’s office door swung open, a flustered, deeply flushed and slightly out of breath maid patting her mid-back length white hair back into place as she exited. Comic leaned against the doorframe directly behind her, a self-satisfied, sated, and lazy smile on his face, and reached out to slap the maid’s rear, chuckling when she let out a squeal.

“thanks babe~ really ‘maid’ my day, heh,” he joked happily when she sent him an admonishing look in response, huffing and folding her arms across her chest, and winked at you as you looked between the pair of them curiously before slipping back into the office and shutting the door behind himself. The maid, amber eyes flashing and flushed cheeks finally beginning to settle, murmured beneath her breath for a moment, smoothing her uniform down and adjusting, you could only assume, a pair of slightly twisted panties (ahh… they must have been having a bit of fun in there), and jolted when you cleared your throat to alert her of your presence, turning to you with widened eyes and a rekindled blush.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there. Welcome, welcome,” she gasped, striding, with a slight bit of soreness, over to plop into B’s desk chair, and you let her know it was no problem, respectfully averting your eyes from the upset neckline of her uniform and the line of bruising love bites left along her bared shoulder. You fiddled with the hem of your jacket for a moment, hemming and hawing while she settled, before nodding your chin at the envelopes in front of you, informing her that you were here to see to Lust’s heat.

She sat up straight in her seat, brows flying up, and reached across the top of the desk to pluck one of the envelopes up, handing it to you a moment later.

“Yes, of course! This is for you, should get you right where you need to go! Lust should be in his room, on the second floor. Have fun!” she informed you a little breathlessly, holding out a hand towards the opened doors of the lounge to welcome you onto the main floor, and you took your leave of her to eagerly enter, opening and reading through the letter B had left for you (there was a very small, iridescent purple key inside as well, which you pocketed after glancing at it curiously).

The floor was largely abandoned, save for the broad, bare shoulders of Red as he, without warning, suddenly popped into existence behind the bar and snatched up an unopened bottle of Jack (he held a clawed finger to his broad grin when he saw you, winking and disappearing again in a whorl of red mist), and your journey to the large staircase went largely unimpeded, besides the growing volume of monstrous pheromones heavy on the air. You’d thought to bring a face mask, hoping it would at the very least spare you a little bit of the intensely powerful magic of male monsters in heat, and as you carefully walked down the hall B’s letter indicated at the one that held Lust’s bedroom, it seemed to be working… at least regarding what you were breathing in.

The magic seemed not to care whether it was being inhaled or not, warming your skin where it touched and sending sparks across your vision and weakening your knees without care for your destination, sending you stumbling against one of the walls in the hall. You dragged yourself along it as best you could, one hand pressed to your mouth and nose over your mask and your abdomen tightening already with unbelievable want, and fumbled to let yourself into the door you knew to be Lust’s, slamming it shut behind yourself and pressing your back to it the moment it was shut.

You’d fully prepared yourself to be pounced on the moment you set foot in his room, were more than a little wet just from the consideration of him taking you against the door in his desperation… but nothing met you as you dragged your mask from your face and caught your breath but the heavy scent of incense, perfume, and sweetness that always seemed to follow the sultry monster around. It was dark, when you opened your eyes to look around yourself, gossamer curtains hung on every wall, from the ceiling, and around the posts of the large bed placed squarely in the center of the room; the lamps set on tables here and there were shaded and draped as well, giving a dulcet, attractive purple glow to the whole affair, and a gentle mist curled through the air, touching at your skin like the fingers of a lover.

And yet, he wasn’t there, looking on you from beneath hooded, lustful sockets, reaching for you enticingly, purring your name in that rich, sexy tenor… nothing.

You pouted slightly, pushing yourself away from the door and setting your bag down beside it before wandering over to the large, almost sinfully lavish bed, looking around yourself as you went at his décor. Maybe he’d gone to get something to eat and would be back soon? You’d heard something about being in heat making monsters expend a great deal of their magic… maybe he’d tired himself out while waiting for you and was replenishing.

You sat yourself on the edge of the bed as you thought, fiddling with the zipper on your jacket and kicking the toe of one shoe against the deep shag carpet underfoot (everything in this room looked comfortable enough to sleep on, even the walls and the reading seat at the window… likely designed that way intentionally), and nearly screeched when, out of nowhere, your leg was nudged, jumping back up from your seat and whirling to see what had touched you.

…it was a boot. A boot attached to a pair of far too tight pants attempting to restrain a clearly painful erection, the sensual curves of a pelvis and spine, a familiar furred vest, a wanting, drooling smile stopped up by a ball gag, and a pair of heated, magically lit sockets, watching you with the avidity of a starving animal.

It was Lust, and he was pinioned to his bed by a pair of slightly glowing handcuffs attached securely around his outstretched wrists, silenced by the gag in his mouth. You scurried to remount the bed and shuffled to his side as quickly as you could (an undertaking all on its own; his mattress and sheets were so soft and plush that it was nearly impossible to navigate them without sinking), pulling the ball gag from his mouth the moment you could reach it.

He let out a sigh of immense relief as it fell free, stretching his jaw to, surely, return some feeling to it, before letting his skull flop back onto the mattress, turning his gaze to admire you wantonly from his position below you.

“thank fuck… i don’t think i’ve ever been happier to see anyone than i am to see you, honey.”

His murmur was as lustful as you’d imagined in your wildest dreams, every word heavy with his desire for you and _only_ you, and you turned as red as the panties B had told you he’d asked you to wear, your breath stuttering your chest and your heart skipping a beat. You traced a finger along his cheekbone to have something to do with your hands, wiping away a trail of his drool busily, and he arched his neck to kiss your fingertip, holding your gaze as he did.

Your brain short circuited for a moment, electricity traversing the length of your arm from the point where his bony lips had met your flesh, and you stammered out the first thing you could think to say, asking shakily after the reason why he was tied up in his own room. He chuckled at that, turning his face to press his cheek into the palm of your immobilized hand and nuzzle against it affectionately; he pulled against the handcuffs indicatively as he did, a gentle hum rising and falling at the pressure placed on them.

Must be enchanted, to resist the strength of a monster in heat…

“heh… ’s for mine and everyone else’s own good. so much boning going on, and me just sitting around waiting for you… well. you know how i am, sweet thing. i’d have gotten myself in trouble trying to get in on the action. so i asked for this, and for you to be given the key… make sure i behaved myself 'til you got here~” he filled you in, dropping a set of soft, sensual kisses against your palm and wrist as he spoke (you didn’t know if it was the silken quality of his voice, his pheromones, or the feeling of his bones against your skin, but it was getting very, _very_ hard to think), and you stuttered for a moment, thinking blearily of the tiny key in your pocket.

One little click and he would be free… likely inside you the very next second, judging from just how hard his pants were straining.

You nearly fainted at the thought, squirming where you sat and shivering at the quiet, gruff growl he let out in response (he must be able to smell it when you got more turned on…), and asked him, in an attempt to calm yourself and think of anything besides the lavender glow emanating from his pants, if his heat was so bad that he wasn’t able to help himself, insomuch that he needed to be restrained. He huffed indulgently at that, moving his roving, wanting gaze from your chest and back to your eyes so slowly that you could practically feel the drag of his magic over your skin.

“nah. heats aren’t a big thing for lust monsters, we’re pretty much always in rut… but fuck, it’s always worse with so many other monsters around. gives things a competitive edge, even if we aren’t sharing…” he murmured, grinning wryly at some unspoken joke, and sent you a flirtatious, knowing wink, thrusting his hips upwards to both draw your attention and enumerate his point.

“and good as i am, my hand just doesn’t compare to a hot, wet little human around my dick~”

His next growl was far more pronounced, a predatory response to the whimper you let out at the vivid, sensual images his words brought to mind (it was definitely getting harder and harder to think of anything but having him inside of you now, you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second-), and parted his teeth to lick across them hungrily, eyeing you and your flushed cheeks and your shaking hands as though there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

“'specially a human begging for a breeding,” he grunted, voice darkening and magic flaring in the heavy, humid, charged air between you both, his wanting, heated breath brushing over your lips in dark promise (when had you leaned over him? You were practically straddling him now, so close you could _**taste**_ the desire on his breath), and gave you only a moment to realize just what he had said before arching his back to crush his mouth to yours, kissing you mindless and breathless with such ease and skill that you felt faint.

His tongue twisted with yours sensually, thrusting into your mouth in mere emulation of his true wishes, your saliva tingled and sparked with the magic of his, your skin heated as it pressed to his bones, and when he pulled back to gaze up at you meaningfully, grinding his hips against the apex of your thighs (you were fully on top of him now, you couldn’t even remember moving but you were rubbing yourself against the curve of him through his pants, your hands buried under his shirt and twined with his ribs), you chased his kiss desperately, mind fogged of all but the thought of _more_.

He avoided your lips playfully, though, the handcuffs straining and humming again as he clenched his fists, and met your eye inescapably, nodding down at the nonexistent space between you and the friction slowly building from your helpless grinding.

“so let me go so i can have you, ride me ragged just like this, i don’t care. for the love of every star in the sky, _please_ fuck me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

* * *


	27. Nothing Comical About It (UT Sans)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comic's been waiting for what seems like forever~

* * *

echo--flowers asked: *slides 5000g over* Is Sans available for the heat season?

* * *

You knew you were in for it the second you got the first text.

The Sanses of the original universes were monsters well known for their patience, capable of sitting and watching paint dry (or at least pretending to while sneakily taking a nap) and outlasting nearly anyone in an argument. You knew for a fact that Comic, the Sans that resided at the Banana Lounge, was just as patient as the rest, had told you stories about his stint of snail training in his Underground, and as such had been very taken aback by the slew of progressively more horny texts you’d gotten from him that day, seemingly incapable of waiting for you to make your way to the lounge to help him with his heat.

You’d been more than willing to indulge him, of course, spending most of the morning sexting with him and getting progressively more excited with each promise of pleasure he gave you, with each lewd photo he begged for and you delivered with a blush on your cheeks. Your turn to enter the portal into the hub universe could not come quickly enough; your phone battery was starting to die and you were almost certain you were going to combust into a cloud of pure desire if you didn’t find your way into his arms soon.

He seemed to be of exactly the same mind. The moment you stepped into the lobby, spotting the needy, sweating monster lingering distractedly beside the reception desk and chatting with the pretty, amber-eyed maid attending it, his sockets locked onto you, his usual lazy grin stretching across his face sharply and hungrily.

“ _finally_ ,” he growled, unspeakable need in his low, rumbling voice, and the very next moment you were crushed to his chest, one hand clutching at your lower back and the other buried in your hair as he kissed you absolutely weak-kneed (you were overpowered in a second, whimpering and digging your fingers into the material of his jacket to try to keep yourself grounded), and when he finally pulled back to let you breath, immediately moving his mouth to your throat to leave behind a trail of nips and hickies in its wake, you found yourself in a completely different room entirely, dark and cool and heavy with the scent of his magic and his desire.

He must have teleported you both while he’d been trying to force his entire tongue down your throat…

You let out an almost embarrassing whine when he pulled at your clothes needily, stammering something you couldn’t even remember regarding your payment for being here, and the _look_ he sent you when he pulled away from suckling at your clavicle, his magic flaring in his sockets like the head of a match and a trail of saliva dripping from his mandible…

You’d never felt more wanted in your entire life.

“i’m gonna be real honest with you, babe… i don’t give a shit about the money right now,” he grunted shortly, his breaths huffing from between slightly parted teeth in his eagerness, and pressed himself fully to your chest, backing you against the wall behind you and turning your face with one hand, his mouth pushing against your ear hotly.

“all i care about right now is fucking you so hard you can’t remember either of our names after.”

You didn’t even have time to gasp, though your heart hammered a blush into your cheeks so dark that you felt woozy; he had teleported you both again the very next moment, so skillfully that he left your clothes in a puddle beside the wall, and had you bent over the edge of his bed with his cock already buried inside you, his pelvis slamming against your ass so hard and fast you rose to your toes with every stroke, his headboard crashing against the wall noisily.

If you hadn’t been so turned on by your mutual lusting all that morning, it surely would have been painful, the suddenness and intensity of his rutting taking you completely by surprise, but as it was, you were more than adequately prepared, so much so that you’d been dripping wet for him before you’d even seen him. As such, he slid in and out of you without even a hint of resistance, the lewd, sloppy sound of your joining rising above the creak of his mattress, his animalistic grunts, and even your own keening wails of pleasure as he gave in entirely to his need.

This wasn’t your first time with him, not by a long shot; he was usually a bit of a tease, liked to draw out your encounters for hours and make you beg before he gave you what you really wanted, but today, he was single-minded, bent entirely to assuaging the instincts clawing to be released, and only minutes after he’d first slid into you he was filling you with stuttering, short rolls of his hips, pressed as deep as he could possibly be inside you and spilling his magical seed into you in spurts so hot you could feel each one.

It had been so fast you hadn’t even had time to orgasm yourself, your breaths haggard and the juncture of your legs sore from the sheer brutality of his rutting, but from where he was bent over your back, resting there and seemingly attempting to catch his breath, he reached a hand between your legs obligingly, bringing you to an almost painfully intense climax as he emptied himself within you.

You were both sticky, sweaty, and shaking with the intensity of your joining when he finally pulled from within you and fell sideways onto the bed beside you, wearily gathering you against his chest and kissing your panting lips apologetically. He smoothed a hand down your spine as you curled against him, leaking his seed onto the edge of his mattress and, surely down onto the carpet (you had no idea how much he had came, but it had felt like a _lot_ ), and hummed soothingly to you as your breath finally settled.

“fuck… sorry babe. felt like i’d been waiting months for that, heh…” he breathed out quietly in the gentleness of your repose, fingering a lock of your hair and looking absently up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his ceiling, and you traced your fingertips over his bared, sweat dappled rib cage, asking quietly if you’d kept him waiting too long. He let out a clipped, short chuckle at that, shaking his head and turning to face you with a wry smile on his face.

“’s not you, sweetness. it’s usually not this bad… it was fine before i figured out i actually wanted kids. it’s different, more intense, now. …think you know why,” he revealed, the lights in his sockets dimming and growing far away, and you sobered, brows lowering as you realized what he was referring to. His troubles with B seemed to only be getting more complicated… did she even know he was thinking like this?

You made to ask, concern emanating from you in waves, but he shushed you with another deep, consuming kiss, hands traversing your body to pull you up on top of him. He shook his head discouragingly when he let you pull back, sockets pleading to let the subject go.

“let’s not talk about that. ’s drama for another time. this is just for us, yeah?” he encouraged, quirking a tired, hopeful smile, and though you could see the pain he was trying to hide behind that smile, you acquiesced and reached out to smooth your palm over his cheekbone soothingly, giggling when he turned to press a kiss to your hand. He chuckled in response, his own palms running up the lengths of your bare thighs, and bucked his hips against you indicatively, his already hardened magic sliding fluidly against you, through the excess of his still dripping cum.

“so… how about round two~”

* * *

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Welcome to the Keyboard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25270015) by [lacewing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewing/pseuds/lacewing)




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